The Tudor Rose
by Shadow over Egypt
Summary: The title of Crown Prince is a much coveted name indeed, and many will kill for the privelige of owning it. 'There is much reason to fear those that hold the English Crown in the grip of the Rose...' [Not based on Duelists of the Roses.]
1. The Princes

**Shadow: **Well…this plot bunny has been bugging me for a while now…and it's actually _finished, _unlike my WAWOTW one… (sighs)

Uh…this is English history peeps. I've taken what I know, and had a good ol' time screwing it all up into an AU. (grins) _So _much fun.

Knock yourselves out…

* * *

**The Tudor Rose**

**Chapter 1: The Princes**

London, 1588. A time of change, of new ideas, of the future. But for some, a time of anxiety, and worry. King Edward, the King of all England, was sick, and doctors said he did not have long left to live. Even if he recovered from his most recent bout of illness, he would be dead within three years – at the most. Of course, there _was _an heir – only one, mind you, so he was to be taken care of. People were always fussing over him, and, as a consequence, the lad was always trying to sneak away. The teen prince had never been one for being coddled, and he was sick of all the bother in the palace. It was known he was to be the next King of England, so what was all the hassle about? It wasn't as if he couldn't take care of himself…

Two cloaked figures dashed into the alley, one chasing after the other. The second let out a hissed cry, a young male. _"Bakura, for God's sake-!"_

The other figure stopped, casting a chiding grin at his partner. "Thou shouldst not take the Lord's name in vain."

"Hypocrite." One figure pulled the cloak away from his face, revealing a handsome eighteen year old, his eyes sapphire blue and his hair deepest mahogany. "Bakura, why can't you just stay in the palace for a change? The amount of trouble we'll be in when we get back-"

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black…" The first figure pulled away his own covering, letting snowy locks fall free around his face. Amber eyes glittered teasingly at their elder, for this boy was but sixteen.

"_Cover your face!" _

"Not on you life." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, his face stubborn. "Seto, why should I?"

Seto moved from foot to foot, anxious. "What if someone sees you? You're the _Crown Prince! _Definitely a worthwhile hostage…"

The albino shrugged, letting the words bounce off him. "What if someone sees _you? _Remove the boulder from your own eye first cousin, before attempting to help me remove the pebble from my own."

Sapphire eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I followed _you_! To stop _you _from getting into trouble!"

"I can take care of _myself."_

"Yeah, _right. _Everywhere _you _go, trouble soon follows!"

"So? I can get out of my own scrapes. I can handle myself out on the streets… better than _you_ anyway."

"Maybe, maybe not. We'd still best head back to the palace. What happens if your father asks for you while we are gone? He could-"

"He won't." Bakura's voice was hard. "Even on his deathbed he does not wish to see his son. When he dies, it will make little difference to me. When my mother died, I lost my father as well. My father? The King? Pah! I _have _no father!"

Seto's voice was hushed. "Bakura, that's-"

"Treason?" An odd smile flickered across the albino's face. "So what if it is? Are _you _going to say anything?"

The brunette swallowed his words, and a long silence descended over the two. Eventually the elder broke it. "Bakura… _please _come back to the palace."

A pale hand was run through snow white spikes, and amber eyes gazed off into the distance, where the mist was slowly seeping up from the river Thames. "The mist's coming in…"

"So let's not get caught out in it. Come _on."_

"Fine…" Bakura sighed. "I'll go back to the cursed palace."

Seto smiled in relief, and the two ran off quickly, back the way they had come.

* * *

"Prince Bakura! Prince Seto!" A harried servant ran up to the two teens, her face flushed from the running. "Your majesties, where have you been?"

"Simply for a wander around the palace grounds, Eliza." Seto's reply was smooth, his voice bright as he looked on his and Bakura's old governess. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, your grace… it's just we couldn't find you. I was _most _worried. What would have happened if you had been _kidnapped_?" The harried woman flapped a hand in front of her face, truly horrified by the thought. "Oh, what _would _I have said to the King? My hair's going white just _thinking _about it…"

Bakura smiled pleasantly. "Your hair's already white, Eliza."

The governess frowned at the Crown prince, her expression half laughing, and half scolding. "Oh, begone you! Always teasing me. What will become of my poor nerves? They're already in shards because of your disappearance today…"

"Poor Eliza…perhaps you should go rest?" The albino's face was sympathetic. "I think a lie down would be most beneficial to your poor, frazzled nerves, and perhaps some tea?"

"Tea? Oh… that _does _sound nice but I-"

"No, Eliza, no excuses. I _insist _you go rest. It's my _entire _fault your nerves are shot, 'twas _I _that suggested Seto should walk with me." The Crown Prince gave Eliza a gentle push. "Please, go rest; it will make me feel better about alarming you so."

"But…"

"I _insist." _Bakura smiled again. "Eliza, relax… I'll still be here when you wake up. Go have a nice, long, relaxing sleep."

The governess relented. "Oh…you're a good boy, Bakura. Always thinking of others before yourself…" The woman gave a small bob. "Well then, your majesties, I'd best go have that tea then…" She wandered back off down the corridor, heading for some sleep, and undoubtedly a nice cup of tea.

Bakura's smile faded into a sneer. "Stupid woman…"

Seto shot him a sharp glance. "I don't believe you. How can you manipulate her so?"

"Cousin, you are a hypocrite."

"At least if I dislike someone I tell them to their face! Bakura, every other word you speak is a _lie._"

Amber eyes narrowed. "Do I lie to you?"

"I wouldn't know. You probably mock _me_ behind _my_ back as well…"

"I do _not! _Seto, I have never lied to you! If I have a disagreement with you I will _say _so! Do you really think so little of me!"

"No."

Bakura relaxed. "There you are then. Anyway," he flicked a snowy bang over his shoulder, "come walk with me. I am bored now, and, since you spoiled my earlier fun, it is only fair you accompany me to alleviate my boredom."

Seto nodded, falling into step with his cousin. The two idly walked down the corridor, silent.

The elder shot a glance at the Crown Prince. In truth, when he had answered his cousin before, he had been lying. He didn't trust the albino – not completely. The boy was bright, smart and fun, interesting to be around, but he…he could be… _frightening_, at times. Bakura had a mean streak; cold and icy as his snow white hair, and when he got mad…he got nasty. Yes, the Crown Prince was intelligent, but he was cunning as well. Seto had seen many tutors that the young prince disliked disappear all too quickly… But still, Bakura had never been like that to him, and was never likely to either. Though they were but cousins, they were as close as – maybe more than – brothers. Bakura would never betray him – would he?

A sudden commotion in the corridors ahead – near the King's chambers - ripped the Prince out of his thoughts. Startled, sapphire eyes blinked, recollecting themselves. "What the…?"

"Come on!" Bakura was already racing down the hallway to the disruption's source, and, hastily, Seto followed.

The two happened upon chaos.

* * *

"_I demand to see the King!"_

"That's impossible, his majesty is unwell. Maybe you should-"

"It is vitally important I see his majesty, King Edward! _Now!_ Let me through!"

"His majesty is _sleeping!_ You cannot enter!"

"You _must _let me see the King!"

The corridor leading to the King's private chambers was packed with people - guards, servants and nobles alike -, all of whom were goggling wide-eyed at the scene before them.

A middle-aged man bedecked in the clothes of nobility stood before the entrance to the King's chambers, his voice brash and loud as he demanded to be let past. Seto recognised the man as the Duke of Northumberland, a friend of the King's. He'd recently been abroad – sailing -, so he might have some valuable information…

However, the King's personal servants and guard were having none of it. Still they couldn't do much, being unable to shift the determined noble. So, for both sides, it was a furious stalemate.

All vestiges of courtesy had long since vanished.

"_Let me through!"_

"No!"

"I _demand. _That. You. Let. Me. _Through!"_

"You're not getting-"

"_SILENCE!"_

Stunned, the requested silence fell, and all eyes turned to see an irate Crown prince, his amber eyes narrowed in anger. "_What is the meaning of this!"_

When there was no reply, the teen's expression darkened further. _"Answer me!"_

Gulping, one of the King's guards stepped forwards. He gave a shaky bow. "Y-your maj-jesty… I – that is – we – _this man was trying to enter your father's chambers_!" He pointed accusingly at the Duke, who glowered back at him. "We refused to let him pass, your grace, but he insisted… and uh… here we are…" The man trailed off under the albino's glare, giving another quick bow, then disappeared sharply from the Crown Prince's terrifying gaze.

Bakura's voice was silky soft. "So, what you're telling me, is that all this noise is because of _you _Duke?"

The Duke scowled faintly. "Your majesty, I have an important message for the King!"

"I _heard." _The albino's reply was pointed, and the other winced slightly. "So, _Duke,_ what is so _important_ about this message that you chose to cause such chaos in my father's palace? What message is so _important_ that you will disrupt _everything_ just to _deliver _it?"

The Duke's face remained blank. "Your majesty, I cannot speak of it to anyone less than your father."

"I am the Crown Prince! What cannot be said to me that can be said to my father! I will inherit the throne after him!"

"That may be so, your majesty, but I must speak with your father."

Bakura's eyes narrowed slightly – a warning sign to those that knew him. "As you can see, Duke," he cast a hand to the royal chambers' doors, "my father is resting. Would you have us disturb him when he has been so recently ill? The King requires his rest, and to disrupt that might set his recovery back a while. Your information may wait."

The Duke looked up. "Your majesty-!"

"It may _wait." _Bakura's voice was cold. "You have made it clear, Duke that you will speak to no-one but my father - and to that request I stand. You _will _speak with the King, and he will be alerted to your appeal in due cause, when the physicians say he is well enough to be bothered by your prattle."

"_This cannot wait._"

There were a few gasps from the gathered crowd at the Duke's audacity. Nobody – just _nobody _– openly defied royalty, and to dare to contradict a direct command by the Crown _Prince…!_

Bakura was momentarily stunned, then anger set in. "_What did you say!" _He strode forwards, till he was inches from the Duke. "How _dare _you contradict me! I have _said _my father is not to be disturbed-"

"It's a little late for _that_, my son."

Bakura stopped mid-rant, amber eyes widening. "I-I…_father…!" _He bowed slightly, ducking his head. Hastily, the crowd assembled dropped into curtsies and bows of their own; their eyes respectfully averted from those of the King's, who emerged slowly from his rooms.

King Edward VI wasn't a very old man, but time had taken its toll on him – and it showed. The loss of his wife – the late Queen Susan – had hit him hard, and the grief had never quite left his eyes, though it had happened over thirteen years previously. Still, King Edward was most definetely a _King. _He had inherited much from his father: his pride, his looks – the latter only slightly withering with age -, and the same stamina King Henry had possessed flowed strongly through Edward's veins.

One thing King Edward did _not _possess however, was his father's ruthlessness, nor the bloodlust and rage that had driven the previous King to send so many to their deaths – including two of his unfortunate Queens.

Then again, Edward had never had the problem his father had had. He _had _a son, and his had been born very shortly after his marriage to Susan. He also had a nephew, Seto, born of his half-sister Mary, and the lad would make a fine heir if Fate deemed Bakura unfit for the English Crown.

King Edward turned to the Duke of Northumberland, his tone polite. "Good Duke, I believe it is _you_ I have to thank for my early rising?"

The Duke of Northumberland flushed slightly, but nodded. "I apologise, your majesty, for your rude awakening. I would not have had it so, but I come bearing information of a most important kind, affecting your royal personage directly. I beg forgiveness, my King, for the disruption, and especially while your Grace is still affected by ill-health, but the information I bear cannot be delivered to any but your esteemed self, for it is delicate in nature."

"Delicate…?" Troubled eyes scanned the noble, searching for any hint that the man had to offer.

"Yes, your majesty."

"And it is vitally important…?"

"Yes, your majesty."

King Edward nodded. "Very well. I will meet with you in my private audience chambers in an hour. Are you content to wait until then?"

The Duke of Northumberland bowed again. "Quite content, sire, and thankful of your benevolence."

"We shall see…" The King moved away from the man, stepping lightly over to Bakura. "How now, my son?"

"I am well, father." The teen's voice was quiet.

"I am glad to hear that. How are your lessons?"

"The same, father. They vary little day to day."

"Your tutors tell me you are oft to disappear for long periods of time." The King's voice was disapproving. "Where do you go?"

"Simply for wanders around the gardens." Bakura's head was still bowed, his eyes refusing to look at his father's.

"Hm… See to it that they wander in your _schoolroom_, child, and not errant elsewhere. I have much to suspect that your 'wanderings' – as you so eloquently call them – go much astray from the walks you claim they tread."

"As the King commands."

Frowning lightly at his son, Edward moved onto his nephew. "Seto! I have not spoken with you in a while, child. What have you been doing?"

The brunette inclined his head respectfully, in acknowledgment of his uncle's words. "I have simply been around the palace, your majesty. My lessons occupy my time, and I spend much of the remainder with Bakura."

"Good, good…" The King smiled absent-mindedly. "I will speak with you soon, I hope."

"If your majesty wishes it so…"

* * *

The Crown Prince.

He was brilliant – nobody doubted that. Bakura was extremely intelligent, sharp and calculating, and the young Prince was renowned for his amazing gifts with games of logic and strength. He was active too, taking part in swordplay, riding and archery, rivalled only by Seto. The two teens were fierce opponents, and often they could be found jousting and fighting in the palace grounds. Both were highly skilled – but they were both extremely sore losers. It was not uncommon to find one or the other sulking at some point of the day, but generally they were friends again before the following morning. The two were oddities, lost little children that had been put together from a young age, simply because there was nowhere _else _to put them. Since Bakura had turned five, the two had been together, and they'd hit it off from the start – quite literally. Bakura had punched his older cousin and the two had had to forcibly separated by eight servants.

But that had been a long while ago, and the two had matured since then.

* * *

The blade crashed down, the sound of iron ringing loudly in the courtyard as it clashed against its brother, then it was up, around and back again, and other clanging peal let loose.

Bakura laughed. "You'll have to do better than _that, _Seto!" His cousin merely raised an eyebrow, slicing neatly through the air at a point perilously close to the albino's torso. With another grin the Crown Prince side-stepped, taking the opportunity to twist and elbow the elder in the side.

"_Hey!"_ Seto let out an indignant yell, bringing his sword down with a vengeance at his cousin's head-

-to be met by Bakura's own blade, swinging up.

Bakura smirked. "Did I catch you, cousin dearest?"

"You know fine _well _you bloody caught me, you imp." Blue eyes were scolding. "When did we agree on anything apart from swords?"

"Well, we didn't _disagree…_"

Amusement sparked in orbs of the brightest lapis lazuli. "If you put it _that _way…" With a grin, he promptly wrenched his blade off his cousin's, twisted the weapon around and aimed directly for Bakura's waist. With a surprised yell, the albino quickly dropped his own sword to meet the blow, and Seto coolly directed a swift kick to the back of the Crown Prince's legs, sending Bakura sprawling on his back.

The albino suddenly found himself with a very pretty view of fluffy clouds.

Seto smirked at the astonished look on the younger prince's face. "Comfortable?"

"Go to Hell."

"Already there, cousin, already there…" With a laugh, the blue-eyed Prince pulled away – only to be met by a flustered servant scampering towards him.

"Your Majesty! Prince Seto!"

"_What?_"

"Oh-" The underling took a deep breath. "It's the King, your Grace, he wants to speak to you. _Now. _In the rose garden."

"_Now?" _Seto shot a glance at his cousin, who sat up, and shrugged back at him.

Bakura got to his feet. "Did he say _why _he wants to talk to Seto?" His tone was curious.

"N-no sire…"

The albino frowned, his forehead wrinkling in thought. "You'd better go…" His comment was directed at his cousin. "It would not do to keep His Majesty waiting…"

An almost identical frown on his own face, Seto nodded, sheathed his sword, and turned and jogged for the rose garden.

* * *

The rose garden.

Seto wrinkled his nose. He'd forgotten just how _strong _the flowers here smelt… It was an apt name for the place of course, because practically the only plants that grew here were _roses_.

Red _and _white ones of course. Henry VII's practicalities for peace were still observed, even _now…_

The Prince sighed, casting his eyes about for King Edward. Where _was _the man?

The King stepped out suddenly in front of him, and Seto screeched to a halt, barely avoiding walking directly into his uncle.

"Your majesty!" The brunette swept a deep bow, blushing faintly. "How do you fare?"

"Seto." A warm smile spread across the King's face. "I fare well, thank you. I left my bed wishing to speak with you…"

"Speak with me, your grace?"

"Walk with me, lad…"

Hesitantly, Seto nodded, falling into step with his uncle as he walked along the path. "What troubles you, your majesty?"

The King laughed quietly. "Always so _formal_, Seto. You are my _nephew, _child, not a mere courtier."

The brunette's voice was quiet. "You are King, sire, and I would not offend you. Your majesty has been most gracious to me."

"You forgive me, then?" Edward spoke softly. "For your mother?"

Seto's reply was noncommittal. "I understand why you did it, sire."

King Edward sighed quietly. "I was sorry to do it, and I was even sorrier at her passing. For all the difference in our upbringings, she was always kind to me. Mary was a testament to her faith." The monarch paused, eyes glancing at his nephew. "Catholic she may have been, but I admired her, and admire her I still do."

"She was an admirable woman."

"Indeed she was…" A quiet smile touched the King's lips. "The Spanish blood in her showed."

"In what way?" Seto's voice was still polite.

"Her fire, her stamina… she _breathed _charisma. I believe that is what attracted your father to her…"

"Perhaps, sire." Blue eyes were blank, indifferent. "Though the crude rumours say her looks did not hinder her either."

"As they do not hinder you."

Silence.

"Seto…" The King's voice was tentative, unsure.

"Sire?"

Edward seemed to find his confidence again. "You remember I spoke of the French King a while back, and the stormy relationships between our countries?"

Seto nodded. "I do."

"To ease the strife, a suggestion has been made – by the French King. He wishes to help build bonds between our two countries, and he believes that a union between us would be the best way."

"A union?"

"A marriage. The French King has six daughters… but one of them is approaching marriageable age, a pretty lass by all accounts. He proposed that Bakura and she should be wed, but I was loath to agree. The French lass… I do not think they would agree very well with each other. You, on the other hand, would make an ideal match…" The King paused. "So what do you say, Seto? Will you marry the French Princess Kisara?"

* * *

"What did he want?"

Seto glanced up as he entered his room, blue eyes travelling across to where Bakura sat, sprawled, over a long seat, amber eyes almost bored as they looked up at their cousin.

"The French have proposed a… treaty…"

"A treaty? The _French?" _Bakura's voice was suspicious. "What on earth about?"

"A betrothal…"

Amber eyes widened slightly. "Father wants you to get _married? _To one of King Louis' daughters? Which one?"

"The Princess Kisara."

"The _youngest?" _

"Yes." Seto nodded. He was still surprised himself. Kisara? She was the youngest of Louis' six daughters, but rumour had it she was supposed to best catch. But… why _her? _Why _now? _

There was a knock on the room's door.

"Your-your majesties?"

It was the same servant as before.

"_What…?" _

"The King wishes to speak with his royal highness, the Crown Prince Bakura…"

* * *

The door to Seto's chamber slammed open again, and Bakura stalked inside.

Cobalt eyes looked up at the Prince. "What vexes you?"

"Father!"

"The King?" Seto was mildly curious. What had his majesty done to offend his son _now?_

Bakura merely scowled at the title, throwing himself into a nearby chair. "Did _you _know father married once before he met my mother?"

"No, I can't say I did…" Seto was _definetely _curious now. "Did he really?"

"Yes!" The cry burst out of the albino, and he was up and out of his chair, his fair face furious. "That stupid-!"

Seto hurried out of his chair too, clapping a hand firmly over his cousin's mouth. "_Wait." _He turned to the usual guards standing in the chamber, his voice stern. "_Leave us." _When the guards had all left, the teen removed his hand from the prince's mouth. "Forgive me, your majesty, but I believe privacy is required for a discussion such as this. Even the Crown Prince falls under English law."

"That's just _it! _I'm _not _the bloody Crown Prince! Some damn Egyptian brat _is!"_

"W-what?" The brunette fell back, his eyes wide.

"You heard me!"

"But…_how?"_

Bakura drew in a ragged breath and spoke, his voice bitter. "My father married another before he met my mother. It was in Egypt, seventeen years ago. Apparently she was very beautiful – as if I care! He left – my father – and returned to England – after all, he did have a country to rule. He promised to return for the lady, and she, like a fool believed him, not telling him she was pregnant – she wanted it to be a surprise for him when he back." Amber eyes gleamed with something closely akin to malice. "He never returned – in fact, my father completely and conveniently _forgot _about her! If you can recall, he was very ill the year previous to his marriage to my mother – his old illness? He woke a few weeks after his ill bout, with little memory of the past few months of his life – at least, that is what was _said. _The Egyptian woman seems to have made very little impact on him, if she can be forgotten _that_ easily… 'Sources' say my father met and wooed her within a week, marrying her in the second. She was only ever intended as a pretty ornament, not a mother to his children. No, there was another in England who he wanted for _that _role."

Seto let out a soft murmur. "The late Queen Susan…"

Bakura was nearly spitting his words out. "No other. He married _her_ and it was said she fell pregnant the night of their wedding. All England _rejoiced _when I was born. A Crown Prince! How _wonderful."_

"But… if the King married the Egyptian… that means…"

"I'm illegitimate and cannot rule? That was _my _original thought too. No, I'm legitimate - barelythough." Amber eyes were burning, dark pools of hate. "Honestly though, what difference does it make? I'm still having the throne wrest away from me! That foolish Egyptian lady bore a son, and he was born but two months – _two months! – _before me. She _died _in childbirth, and her _darling _child was brought up in Egypt. I suppose it was a lucky thing my mother convinced my father to get his vows renewed – she probably thought it would be _romantic. _By some strange loophole of law, that made their marriage legal – something that neither had realised wasn't so previously because of my father's first marriage – as the Egyptian woman was dead, and father, as a _widower, _was free to remarry. About a month later, I was born. So you see," a queer smile formed on Bakura's face, "I'm quite, _quite _legitimate."

"But what about the Egyptian boy?"

"Please, he's only half Egyptian. He's partly English due to my father's idiocy." The scowl returned to Bakura's lips. "Well, it seems the brat is still alive, else he wouldn't be challenging my rule – would he? Some stupid officer heard rumours while he was out in Egypt, and reported it to the Duke of Northumberland. _He_ went out snooping, and discovered the truth. So of course, he simply _had _to come tell the King. What do you think that whole mess a few days ago was about?"

Seto bit his lip. "What does my uncle think of all this?"

"Oh, he is deeply _regretful _for any hurt he may have caused, and is _delighted _to hear he has another son. He welcomes the boy with open arms, and of _course, _the boy _must _come to England."

"_What!"_

The albino continued, ignoring the question. "After all, my father is _his _father, and it the King's _duty _to look after his son. Besides, Atemu is Crown Prince, England will be his to rule after my father dies. As the King commands, Atemu _has _to come to England, where his _family _is."

"'_Atemu'?"_

Bakura responded, almost carelessly, "The new Crown Prince's name. Father thought it best to inform me of the boy and his life – after all, he is due to arrive in a week."

Seto sank into his chair again, blue eyes troubled. _Lord help us. The King's _really _screwed up this time… _

* * *

The sun set over the royal palace, but the rumours didn't die with the light's waning. Everywhere was a hotbed of gossip, and fervent whispers still filled the halls. Somehow or other, information had leaked out, as information tends to do, and all that could be heard were the soft murmurings of the people…

* * *

Things were not right. There was an unmistakable impression of…._otherness_ in the air, mixing subtly with a low level of unease that had been plaguing Seto for many, many days.

He now knew its cause, the feelings he felt were emitted from the King himself, and the prince's disquiet was steadily growing.

What was happening…it was sure the wheels had been set in motion a long, long time ago, but by _whom? _The recent events in the palace…these were not accidents, there were the reaping of long-sown seeds by Fate herself – for surely Fate _must _have a hand in the mess! No mortal could possiblycause such dilemma, such strife; and what sane mortal would ever _wish_ to?

_Fate is indeed a cruel mistress..._

Oh, she led many man a merry dance; touching and teasing, a little turn here, a subtle change there, the soft insinuation of an idea whispered gently against a person's ear… oh yes, Lady Fate certainly knew how to bend things to her own unfathomable ends. She could make a man or ruin him within but a day…

_And now she has set her sights on England…_

Seto sighed quietly, his blue eyes cloudy with the emotions that flickered through them. The day had been a long one, a strange one, and his mind was weary from the surge of information it had met. Had he offended God so much that he was to be granted _no _peace in his life?

Bakura. The King. Egypt. The Queens. Princesses. His aunt. His cousin. His second aunt. His mother. His cousin_s_. His father. England. Egypt. France. _Atemu…_

There were simply too many thoughts in his mind. And everywhere… everywhere he could sense the winds of change rising, stirring, blowing their breath that could both topple Empires and rise up Kings…

* * *

The boy sighed bleakly as he looked at the grey-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Even the seas in this cursed north were dark!

Another wave of homesickness rose within the teen, and he gulped, tears threatening to fall from crimson eyes. Oh, but it would not _do _to cry! He mustn't, not _here_, not in front of all the people on deck with him. What would the good English navy think of him if he cried?

Somehow, by some miracle, Atemu managed to swallow his tears. Sadly, he stroked the gold puzzle that hung around his neck – a gift left to him by the mother he had never knew…

Oh, how he _longed _for Egypt already! He missed the scorching heat of the day, and the balmy cool of the night. He missed the exotic sights, smells and tastes of Egyptian food. The English food was too heavy, too sickening; it sat like a lump in his stomach and cloyed on his tongue. And, oh, how he _hated _the English clothes!

Already they had bedecked him in their attire, with all its frills and flounces, quilts and pads, silks and satins and ridiculous mounds of fabric that near swamped his petite frame. Where were all the simple robes that he was accustomed to? And the colours! So many colours they hurt the eyes! What was with the English and their _obsession_ for colour?

In Egypt, Atemu had been used to soft whites, blues and reds, and sparkling stones of varying shades, all in moderation. But here – _here – _moderation had clearly never been spared a thought.

Riots of red, green, yellow, blue, black, orange and white clashed against seas of purple, magenta, pale pink, gold, and silver. Oceans of fabric _flowed, _brimming and bustling with frills and ribbons and trims, feathers and lace, all mixing and mingling in every style, shade and hue in every fabric created under the face of the sun.

It was ridiculous.

It was _English._

And, Ra help him, Atemu was to be Crown Prince of it all.

**

* * *

Shadow: And chapter 2 should be up in a while… (shugs) Feed the author?**


	2. Beware my fangs

**Shadow: **Apologies for this taking so long. There are a lot of reasons, and I don't want to waste yet more time naming them all.

Some of you – well, most of you – nigh all of you – were confused by the family connections I made, and how so-and-so relates to so-and-so. That, and as what one reviewers wishes me to say, I thoroughly screwed up English history. Just so you know, I _meant _to screw it up. A lot of my stories work on the governing principle of 'What if..?' I like to think of what would've happened if something had/hadn't happened, and the consequences that would have occurred afterwards. My history teacher's favourite question: "Does one person make a difference?" Well…_yes._

Below are a few notes concerning history/plot and stuff. You can skip them if you like and head straight to the story.

**Notes:**

Henry VIII was married to Catherine of Aragorn. She gave birth to his eldest daughter, Mary. Henry however, wanted a son. Catherine, being too old to bear any more children was useless to him. So he divorced her, and married a one Anne Boleyn. However, the Catholic Church hadn't given Henry permission for the divorce, and the Pope declared the King's marriage to Anne null. Henry, a trifle upset with this, announced himself the supreme head of the Church in England, and validated his own marriage, thereby making the child Anne gave him legitimate, and viable for the English crown. Anne gave Henry another daughter – Elizabeth. Henry eventually tired of Anne – she hadn't given him the son he wanted – and had her beheaded. He then married one of her ladies-in-waiting, Jane Seymour. Jane gave birth to a son, Edward, but died a few days later.

When Henry died (after going through a few more wives), Edward came to the throne. He was only a boy, and received 'help' with his ruling by a few nobles – all of which 'encouraged' England to turn Protestant.

Edward died young – I think from tuberculosis – and his eldest half-sister came to the throne, Mary I. (There was a 'temporary' Queen for about nine days, but she got beheaded.) Mary was Catholic, and set about restoring the Pope as the head of the Church again. She married King Philip II of Spain to try and gain a strong Catholic heir (Spain was the strongest Catholic country in Europe at the time, so any child they had would rule both England _and _Spain), but they had no children.

Mary died, and her half-sister, Elizabeth I came to the throne. She changed England back to Protestantism, but included a lot of the Catholic ceremonies. It was a good fifty-fifty. Her reign was a 'Golden Age' in England. This story is set during what _would _have been her rule.

…

That's history. (Very briefly. If I filled in all the details I'd be going on for three pages or so.) This is what I changed…

…

Edward VI never died. Mary and Elizabeth never came to the throne, but remained as princesses. Mary, still hoping for a Catholic England, went and got married to King Philip. She gave birth to a son - Seto. (More details on Mary, Philip and Seto later in the fic.) Mary died.

Edward went abroad for a while, (about the time Mary gave birth) and ended up in Egypt. He fell in love with a woman there, and married her. He had to return to England though, as he still had a country to rule. He promised to return for his wife, and take her to England to be with him. She, expecting his imminent return, didn't tell him she was pregnant (with Atemu).

In England, the King fell ill with his 'old illness' (the tuberculosis). He was 'out' for a while, and 'woke up' with little memory of the last few months of his life. Basically, he forgot he was married. -

Edward went and got himself married again, and his (second) wife became Queen Susan. (Technically, this marriage was invalid, because of Edward's previous marriage. Any children born of an invalid marriage would be illegitimate, and unable to rule.) Susan fell pregnant.

Edward's first wife gave birth, and died. Atemu was born, and brought up by friends.

Susan decided to be 'romantic', and she and her husband remade their vows. Because Edward's first wife was then dead, their (Susan and Edward's) marriage then became legal, and when Bakura was born, he was a legal heir. Then again, so was Atemu…but nobody knew about him.

Atemu and Bakura are half-brothers (they share a father, the King). Seto is the (half-)nephew of Edward, and therefore the (half-)cousin of both Atemu and Bakura.

I use a lot of quotes in my chapters. The chapter titles themselves all come from Shakespeare, and there are excerpts from some of his works and the Egyptian Book of Dead throughout. I claim no ownership of either. (Is there anyone alive _capable _of claiming ownership of the Book of the Dead anyway?!)

* * *

**The Tudor Rose**

**Chapter 2: Beware my fangs**

The rumours had spread. He _knew _they had.

The covert whispers, the sly glances, the obvious silences when he entered a room…The palace knew.

Everyone from the King down to the lowliest pig-boy _knew._

There was a third royal child, a third prince, a _new_ heir. A foreign boy, an _older _boy, the true firstborn of the King's. A mystery child, a forgotten son, a half-brother Bakura had never known he had had.

Nor ever wanted to.

_Atemu._

The name was whispered in the kitchens.

_Atemu._

The word was murmured in the halls.

_Atemu._

The name that was going around and around and around Bakura's mind and was slowly driving him _insane._

_Atemu._

Three, simple syllables that made the albino's blood _boil, _hot bitterness rising in his throat, acrid and burning in his mouth. He hated the name, _loathed _it, detested it with every fibre of his being.

His father was a fool. Three days hadn't been enough to quench the rage Bakura felt for the man – he doubted three _lifetimes _would be enough. It was Edward's fault, _all _of it was the_ king's _fault – it was all his stupid, _stupid _fault!!

Bakura choked back a sob, his fingers digging into his palms as he clenched his hands, small crescent-shaped indentations appearing on pale, smooth skin.

Once, when he had been very little, Bakura had loved his father. The King had smiled at him then, scooped him up in his arms and carried his little son around on his shoulders. Queen Susan had been there too. She had held him, kissed his forehead and called him her little angel…

When the white-haired prince had been three, his mother had fell ill, and stayed in bed for a long, long while. Surprised, the little Prince had visited the Queen, bringing her flowers he had picked from the garden. She had smiled then too, ruffling his hair affectionately…

"_You're a good boy, Bakura – aren't you? Bringing your mother such pretty flowers…"_

_Bakura smiled happily. "Do you like them?"_

_His mother nodded. "Indeed I do – they're the best present I've ever had…though not as good as the present I've got for **you."**_

_Amber eyes widened, the eager toddler scrambling closer to the Queen. "A present? What mammy? What have you got me?"_

_Queen Susan took the child's hand, placing it lightly over her stomach. "Can you feel anything, sweetheart?"_

_A childish forehead wrinkled in deep thought. "It feels…**strange, **mama. Like…like a butterbird or-or somethin'. What is it?"_

"_Butter**fly **Bakura, not butterbird," Susan corrected gently, "and it's your present, honey. That '**strange**' feeling is your new brother or sister. You're going to be a big brother, angel."_

Barely a few weeks later the Queen went into labour, the palace descending into a mad frenzy. Bakura had been shunted to the side, again and again the little boy getting gradually more and more frightened as the hours went by. What were those noises coming from his mother's room? Was mammy hurt? Scared, he had snuck into the Queen's chambers, slipping past midwives and physicians, doctors, seers and sibyls, pushing his way through each room quickly, determined, arriving in the inner chamber just in time to hear his mother scream, and everything fall deathly silent.

Only to split a few seconds later by a wailing midwife rushing from the room, tears falling down her face.

Bakura had simply been too young to understand what all the grave faces around him meant.

"…_Mammy…?" His voice was hesitant, bordering on tears. He was scared, he was lonely, and he desperately wanted his mother. "…Mammy…?"_

_Every eye there turned to him, and, if anything, the silence deepened._

_Then the whispers started. _

"_The Prince…"_

"_The poor lad…"_

"_Has someone sent for the King?"_

"_I sent a guard immediately."_

"_The poor dear…he'll need his father now more than ever…"_

_A pretty-faced young woman approached the toddler – she was one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, Bakura recognised her as she'd often chatted to him, spoiled him with marchpane when no-one was looking. "Little Prince…" (It was her pet name for the albino.) "…We'd better go. Won't you come with me? There're some dates in your room-"_

_But Bakura wasn't going to be distracted, pulling sharply away from the hand the lady extended to him. "Where's mama?" His tone was accusatory. "What have you **done **to her?!" It made sense to the boy. His mother **must **have heard him before, but she couldn't come to him because these people were stopping her. They were **hurting **her – hadn't he heard his mother crying out himself? "Where is she?!"_

"_Little Prince-"_

"_**No! **Where's **mama?!!" **Upset and angry he stamped his foot, craning his head, desperately trying to catch sight of the bed where he **knew **his mother lay._

_Instead, all he saw was a midwife, her face sombre and tears silently coursing down her cheeks, remove a pathetically small object from the bed, wrapping it in black silk, tears plopping on the dark material. _

_Bakura didn't like that bundle. It brought a nasty feeling inside of him, a deep, unidentifiable fear starting in his toes and slowly curling up over his little body. "…**Mammy…?" **He was shock still. That couldn't be- _

_The toddler shoved his ways forwards, dodging outstretched hands and scrambling up onto his mother's bed, staring down at the marvellous woman who he loved with all of his innocent, childish little heart, stared down at his mother, his pretty, kind, **wonderful **mother, the woman who had called him 'angel' only yesterday. He stared at her, at her pale face, her closed eyes, her still, rapidly cooling body-_

_And dissolved into tears. _

King Edward had withdrawn into his own world after that. The loss of his wife and his baby daughter in one day was a terrible blow.

That day, that cold, cruel, _awful _day, Bakura lost his mother, his newborn little sister…and his father's joy.

It was hard for King Edward to be happy, hard to explain to his three year-old son that his mother wasn't going to come back, hard to live on without his Queen at his side.

King Edward stopped loving, he stopped even _caring. _Bakura grew older, and just accepted his father didn't love him anymore. Seto arrived, and the Prince turned his attentions on his older cousin, becoming friends with the other boy.

He stopped loving his father; the man provided for him - that was all. There was no bond, no closeness between the two. At times, Bakura felt bitter about the loss, but he moved on. The only good thing his father had ever done was become King, so Bakura could become King after him. England would be his.

Or at least, it _would've _been his.

Another wave of bitterness rose up, threatening to engulf Bakura completely.

It _would've _been his, had it not been for the imminent arrival of _Atemu.

* * *

_

"Your Highness…"

Atemu turned from the ship's rail, his crimson eyes aghast. "Mahado, not you too!"

"Not I too _what?" _A tall, well-built young man approached the Prince, directing a rather quizzical look at the slighter royal.

He was handsome enough, Mahado, and could pass himself easily enough as a European. Although his skin was much darker than the norm, his hair was as golden-blonde as any Englishman's or Northerner's. His eyes were a shifting blue-green, as deep and everlasting as the unending ocean they sailed on. His grasp of languages too, was commendable, and his attitude to life was affable; two traits that eased his younger friend into life at sea and amongst 'foreigners' a lot more smoothly than with another to aide the transit. Still, looks are only ever superficial, and though Mahado's visage could pass him off as else, the teen's birth and upbringing had all occurred in the shadowy continent from whence Atemu came, in the land of the great Kings of old – Egypt.

Atemu's voice was pleading as he looked at his closest friend. "Don't _you _start calling me 'your Highness.' I can't _stand _it!"

Mahado hesitated a little before answering. "Your High…_Atemu…_it would be better for all of us if you were prepared for your new life in England. The English are a proud race, a powerful, ever-growing race; I doubt they will accept any prob…_difficulties _with their royalty."

"Then what do they want _me _for?!" The Prince was obviously distressed. "Why must this 'great' country take _me _as its Crown Prince?! I _hate _England! I hate its clothes, its style, its _food! _Mahado, the English scare me. I simply don't _understand _them…I didn't even understand them back in _Egypt."_

"Atemu, you need not be afraid-"

"There is everything to be afraid _of! _You _heard _the threats that were made to my uncle if he did not hand me over to the soldiers immediately. _Look at the English **Navy! **_Is that not something to fear?!"

"Unless you are a pirate or an enemy – _no." _Mahado smiled gently, placing a hand on his companion's shoulder. "Atemu, you did not fear the English before you were asked for, and I doubt you truly fear them now. What is really wrong?"

His royal friend swallowed hard, taking a step back from the rail and into a comforting embrace. He blinked, eyes suddenly teary. "Mahado…I miss home already. I do not think I will fit in very well in England – that country is just so…_different. _How will I possibly ever rule a nation I know next to nothing about? They have a different religion – the English -, with but one God, and I-I…I doubt very much they will let me worship mine."

His partner rubbed soothing circles on his back. "At least you will finally meet your father _and _your half-brother. You will finally possess the _true _family you always wanted."

"Akunadin was my family. _You _were my family, all of you; Akunadin, Isis, Shadi, Karimu and you. Teaching me, looking out for me…" Atemu swallowed again. "Mahado…uncle gave me the Rod."

His blonde friend froze. "I-_what? _Akunadin gave you the Rod? But you already bear the responsibility of the Millennium _Puzzle-"_

The Prince cut him off, a slender finger pressed firmly against the courtier's lips. "Old friend, keep your voice low. Sound travels far over water; it would not do for our conversation to be overheard."

Mahado obligingly lowered his voice to a hissed whisper. "What in the name of sweet _Nut _did he give you the Rod for?"

Crimson eyes were troubled. "I am not sure… Akunadin said it possessed no true Bearer in Egypt, and placed it in my care. It is not for me to wield, but to give to one worthy of its strength."

Blue-green eyes stared out over the ship's rail at the ocean, troubled, one tanned hand lightly touching the Millennium Ring their owner wore about his own neck. "So Akunadin thinks there may be a person worthy of the Rod in _England? _Interesting…"

Atemu looked at his friend, apprehensive. "What are you thinking?"

A short, wry smile.

"I hope he's right."

* * *

Westminster was going all out for the newly discovered English heir Seto noted, as he ducked what had to be the fifty-third spray of roses that attempted to take a large clump of hair off the top of his head. They were dangling everywhere, and their smell permeated the entire palace. The ladies of the court had taken to pressing perfumed handkerchiefs over their noses whenever possible, a few of the royal clergy joining the rush and lighting scented candles and incense holders. Between flowers and perfume, incense and smoke, it was a wonder anyone could actually _breathe. _Or walk, Seto silently added, as he avoided yet _another _festoon of roses and a few trailing ribbons accompanying them that decided to attempt to wind themselves around the prince's ankles. 

_Why do we need **this **many decorations **anyway?**_

"Ah, your _Highness_…"

Blue eyes widened, the prince turning and letting out a weird _urk _as he spotted his governess halfway up the wall – on stairs – and draping it with the very same flowery garlands he was beginning to hold so much of a grudge against. "Eliza…" He hastily took a step backwards, away from the dotty woman, knowing from much past experience not to be anywhere _near _her when she got into a zealous mood. Which she appeared to already _be _in, judging by the way she was depositing roses in healthy amounts about the place. "I _really _have to be somewhere…"

"Nonsense." The woman smiled brightly, quickly descending the stairs on which she stood and standing before the – taller – youth. "Your lessons are over, Bakura has disappeared on once of his legendary walks yet again, the King is occupied, and you are aimlessly walking about the place while trying to avoid the decorations. What could you possibly have to do?"

"Er-"

"_Nothing._ That's what." The governess nodded her head firmly, turning around to pick up a distinctly _red _bunch of roses and dumping them in her charge's hands. "You can help me smarten the place up."

"With _flowers?"_

Eliza pointed up the ladder. "Lad, it's not _my _fault the Tudor emblem's a rose. They go there…just to the left of the red crest."

Seto groaned inwardly, but began climbing the steps, garland in hand.

Eliza idly studied the roses she'd already decorated the hall with, eyeing them critically. "Is it too much, do you think?"

The brunette rolled his eyes, thankful the woman below couldn't see his expression. "I'm sure it's fine, Eliza."

"So shall I add more? I've got this and the Hall to finish – I'm really only doing this as a favour for a friend of mine you know, I'm too old to do this the rest of the time. But still…a new Prince! He'll be your cousin…what do you think of that?"

Seto pinned the garland up, wincing slightly when one of his fingers caught on a particularly sharp thorn. What _did _he think of that? "I couldn't honestly say."

Eliza sniffed, smoothing her dress again as Seto descended the steps to stand beside her. "That's the trouble with you, my boy. You simply don't _think _about these sort of things. You and Bakura both. Still, you're both such _lovely_ boys…" She glanced up at the roses Seto had fixed on the ceiling. "That's perfect! _Just _where I wanted it…" She bent down, scooping up some ribbons. "You can help me with these now."

* * *

Seto _tched, _tapping his foot impatiently as he waited in his cousin's chambers. 

_What's taking Bakura so long?! _

Irritably he rose from the low couch he'd been sitting on, pacing the floor with a distinct lack of goodwill towards his absent relative. He'd managed to escape Eliza after decorating _three corridors_ – so much for '_this and the Hall'_ – and having his doublet scratched to pieces by thorns. He'd begged freedom to go get changed, and then, quite literally, _ran _for it. His old governess had had that _gleam _in her eye again; Seto had hastily departed before he could possibly get roped into _more _work. Oh how he _hated _the preparations for palace parties.

Before the brunette could internally rant some more Bakura entered the room; Seto halting mid-pace to fix a distinctly _aggrieved _glare at the albino.

"Where have you been?!"

Arrogant amber eyes met his, Bakura shaking his hair and sweeping it back over his shoulder with a disdainful hand. "I went for a walk."

"Where?!"

The albino shrugged carelessly; slipping off the grey cloak he'd been wearing and depositing it on a nearby hook. "Where I felt like walking. Why do you care?"

"You can't just…_wander off!!"_

Bakura's lips swept downward in the beginnings of a scowl. "I've done it before."

"I…_know." _Seto sighed, collapsing in a rush on the couch again, staring at his hands. "I'm sorry; it's just…" he gestured vaguely, "Eliza…and the decorations…I guess it's just been tiring my patience. You not being there just seemed to be the last straw."

Bakura's scowl slid into a grin, dumping his body with less than the usual grace on the seat beside the elder prince. "I take it you're the one responsible for all the oh so…ah_…tasteful _ornaments that now bedeck the palace?"

A snort was his reply. "Damned things should all burn with Satan."

"Hmm…" The King's son's reply was noncommittal.

His companion turned to him. "_'Kura_…"

"…What?"

"…'_Atemu' _will be your half-brother, and my cousin."

"_And?" _The sudden hostility in the youngest's voice was obvious.

Seto bit his lip, but turned away. "Nothing."

* * *

The official proclamation had been sent out, and the royal family were most definetely _the _most interesting topic of discussion throughout England. And Scotland. And Wales. And Ireland, France and Spain. Oh, to hell with it, the English royal family was all _anybody _could talk about _wherever _they came from. Ambassadors arrived from all over Europe daily, eagerly mingling with the court at Westminster to find out _the _latest gossip, then just as eagerly wrote back home to inform impatiently waiting monarchs there of what was happening. After all, _this _sort of thing didn't happen often. Not in high society. Not in _noble _society, and most definetely _not _in royal. It just went to prove, many occupants of Europe muttered, that the _English _were conceited upstarts, always had been, and always would be. It was a _pleasure _to see them come down to earth with such an ungainly bump. 

And so, it was into the thirteenth week of this muttering and fluttering frenzy that Bakura descended, pale lips curled in a disgusted sneer. Ambassadors hurriedly shifted out of the teen's way as he approached – six of their gaggle had already met the Prince's wrath beforehand and had no desire to join the disgraced number. Bakura's patience was nearing the end of its already quite diminutive tether, and unless something happened soon to dramatically change the situation, Westminster palace was in no doubt there'd be a few extra bodies suddenly found floating in the Thames.

King Edward was too busy to reprimand his son's temper; news of an approaching fleet had reached his messengers and his intimate court were waiting excitedly for an update. Could it be…_the _fleet? Home so soon? There had been fair winds and good weather so there was always the _chance…_

A messenger burst into the King's audience chamber. At once there was silence, fervent eyes following the man as he raced to the throne where the English monarch sat in state, then sinking into a deep bow.

"Your Majesty…"

King Edward couldn't help it. He leant forward slightly on his throne, impatience leaking into his tone. "Do you have news of the fleet?"

"Yes, you Majesty, I do." The messenger's face remained facing the ground.

"Then speak up, man, speak up! Look at me! What do you know?"

A heartbeat's pause, then the herald glanced up at his sovereign. "The fleet are from the British Navy sire; it was as we expected. Its lead is the _Princess Mary._" Another pause. "They're the fleet from Egypt, your Majesty."

_He's here.

* * *

_

"Oh my…" Atemu was staring.

A Navy man grinned at the shock on the Prince's face as he went past. "Haven't you seen London before, your Highness?"

The teen shook his head. "No…" He couldn't resist a tinge of awe creeping into his voice.

"What d'you think of it?"

"It's…it's _big."_

The sailor laughed, nodding. "Tha' it is, your highness. Tha' it is."

Still, Atemu clung to the stern, wide-eyed with wonder. London was indeed _big. _The Thames was packed with ships sailing up and down the river, the quarves overflowing with people and goods. Thousands upon thousands of people and ships from all over the British Empire traded in London, foreign traders disappearing in the throngs ruled by the English Crown. Buildings erupted all over the land, churches soaring majestically up into the sky. Atemu had…he had never seen so many _people! _And what on earth-?

"What's _that?_"

"'_That'_ would be London Bridge."

Atemu blinked, then smiled at Mahado, from whence his answer had come. "How do _you _know that?"

"I was curious myself, and asked the Captain." The blonde grinned a little sheepishly, then glanced back up at the bridge. "Ra…how did they _build _that thing?"

"I haven't the faintest idea…" The Prince pulled himself back together. "Where is the palace?"

"Which one?"

Atemu frowned. "Old friend…what do you _mean, _'which one'?"

"There are several, your – Atemu. The royal family often move between them. The King is nearly always at Westminster or Greenwich though."

"Which one are we heading for?"

"Westminster. The whole royal family are there at the moment."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"How should I know?" Mahado gave an elegant shrug. "I haven't met them yet."

* * *

Seto skidded around the corner, narrowly avoiding a servant laden with a pile of bedding, yelled an apology over his shoulder and continued full pelt for – yet again – Bakura's chambers. The albino wasn't in the Hall, he most _definetely _wasn't in his study, wasn't in the gardens nor was he in his greeting rooms. Bakura preferred to keep his distance from the Kitchens, and nobody had spotted the Prince heading off for one of his legendary 'walks'. _Surely _he had to be in his room? 

People automatically moved out of Seto's way when he approached, the many palaces used to life with the princes around. The brunette's lungs were burning, but he was getting odd enough looks already without deciding to collapse in the middle of the corridor. Some of the younger ladies of the court giggled and hid their faces beneath beautifully pearled hoods as he ran past, a few of the braver ones daring to flash him a winning smile, an elegant toss of carefully preened curls.

The Prince ignored them. He had more pressing things to concentrate on (for the moment anyways), and he had little time to report it. The King had issued remarkably little notice of his plans, and the whole palace – excepting the fluttering fangirls (ladies, _whatever) _of course – was busy.

And Bakura had _officially _gone AWOL.

Snatches of conversation reached Seto's ears as he ran past.

"_Today? _Are you sure? I at least thought…"

"…the _Princess Mary, _you say? _Already?"_

"I heard it wasn't due back for at _least _another week…"

"…and what _will _His Majesty do? It's really…"

"_Shocking. _To do _that _to a woman…"

"…and they say he's _really _handsome."

The brunette's nose wrinkled in distaste at the last comment. He'd had too much experience with _that _sort of statement, especially when uttered in that distinctly breathless, _girly _voice. But, there was no time to dwell on that…

"_Bakura!_" The Prince's chamber doors flew open at the slightest pressure from Seto – really, they'd have to see about getting that fixed. It was all fine for the dramatic entrances but _honestly…_

"Bakura! Where in God's name are you?!"

"…Seto, what the _hell_ is the matter?" The albino himself entered the room from his sleeping chamber, amber eyes vaguely annoyed.

"Where have you been?"

"I was _sleeping_." The annoyance in the King's son's voice was much more obvious now. "What did I miss? It better be the world ending or worse; it was a _good _dream."

His cousin sighed. "Bakura, your father wants us both in the Hall in less than an hour."

"_Why?_"

"The _Princess Mary. _She's home."

"The _Princess…? _But that means…"

Seto nodded. "Your brother will be arriving at Westminster this afternoon."

* * *

King Edward VI was antsy. It was quite something to discover you have a long lost son, but quite another thing entirely if you were _royalty… _And then, if that son was older than the son you already _had… _The monarch shot a glance at his (now) youngest. 

Bakura's face was a stone mask, amber eyes blank and expressionless. What could he possibly be thinking…?

Bakura had taken the news of a brother rather badly, furious with him and, as his father strongly suspected, _livid _with Atemu. But there was no sign of anger on the albino's face, in fact, there wasn't _anything – _and with Bakura, that could be just as, possibly even more so, worse. Oh, the amber-eyed teen could be sly, his father knew that. He could also be mean, cruel and harsh. Bakura's temper was legendary within the court, and his rages could be quite frequent…or they might never happen at all. No, with the prince there was no possible way to tell, and the safest course of action was to be prepared for anything. No telling _how _Bakura would greet his new brother.

The royal carriage drew up in front of the palace steps, and an expectant hush fell over the crowd.

The King swallowed nervously.

Seto couldn't resist leaning forwards slightly, curious, many others following his example.

Bakura merely arched an eyebrow, his face adopting a bored expression.

The carriage door opened, and the crown prince stepped out.

As one, everyone watching gave a collective gasp.

The Crown Prince was, quite possibly, the most lovely creature to have ever walked the earth. Atemu was slender, and delicately built, with elegant limbs tanned a shimmering golden-bronze. The teen wore a black velvet doublet and shorts, coming to just above his knees. Below that he wore fine white tights, and golden-buckled shoes made of the finest black leather. He wore no cloak, but a gold dagger hung from a belt around his slim waist. Around the youth's neck hung a strange ornament, the likes of which England had never seen before. It was pure gold, shaped like an upside-down pyramid and was carved with a strange looking eye. Atemu's hair jutted out in gorgeous spikes of ruby, ebony and gold, some gleaming bangs falling to frame a strikingly beautiful, and all too exquisite, face. The new Prince's visage was flawless; as if carved by angels; with high cheekbones and large, slanting eyes outlined by sweeping lashes the colour of night. What hit you most about the youth's eyes though, was their _colour. _Atemu's orbs were a colour not seen on England's native shores, not in any eyes _this _side of the water. For, as the crowds noted in shocked and amazed awe, the new Crown Prince's eyes were a deep exotic _crimson._

Hesitantly, Atemu glanced at the crowds about him as he stood at the foot of the palace steps, a second teen stepping out of the carriage to stand protectively beside the newest royal. He was taller than his companion, well-built, his appearance seeming much more…_European _than his charge's. Blonde hair was tied back off the youth's face, and sharp eyes of a shifting blue-green fixed defiantly on the gawping crowds, almost _daring _them to speak.

Atemu tugged lightly on the sleeve of his friend's doublet, attracting the elder's attention away from its staring match with the English populace and back to him. Then, shyly; the Prince raised his pretty eyes to those of his father's.

King Edward smiled warmly at him.

The Crown Prince relaxed slightly, his whole stance shifting. At once he began to ascend the stairs, his blonde companion firmly planted at his side, coming to a halt before the King. The two bowed deeply, but it was to Atemu the people looked, and, momentarily, his face was hidden by his golden bangs.

"Your majesty…" The half-Egyptian's voice was soft, almost musical, a light tenor floating on the breeze.

Gently, the King reached out and took hold of the teen's shoulders, pulling him out of his bow. "Son."

Crimson eyes looked up, and Edward looked straight back into them. Faint hope stirred in scarlet depths. "Father…?"

King Edward nodded, and suddenly Atemu flung himself into the monarch's arms. "Father! Oh…_father!"_

The crowds 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the family reunion.

The blonde who had accompanied the royal bit his lip, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Seto stared in blatant curiosity at his new cousin, blue eyes resting for a few moments on the Prince's friend in thought.

Bakura waited, his face still set like stone.

The King finally came to his sense, reluctantly detaching himself from Atemu's hug. "And who is this?" he turned to his now-eldest son's comrade.

"Oh, I-" A delicate blush stained the Crown Prince's cheeks, suddenly embarrassed at his lack of manners. "Uh, sire, this is Master Mahado. He is a great friend of mine, and left Egypt to come here with me."

Mahado hastily bowed again.

Edward laughed. "Rise lad, so I may see the one my son calls friend."

Blue-green eyes glanced up, a hesitant smile gracing the blonde's lips as the King smiled at him. "It is a honour to meet you, your Majesty."

"You are welcome here, master Mahado. Any friend of my family's is my friend also. Now," the English monarch turned back to the wild-haired teen still standing beside him, "Atemu…I would like you to meet some people." The ruby-eyed prince nodded obediently, and was drawn carefully around to see Seto and Bakura. "Atemu, this is Prince Seto…" Edward paused, and the two teens stared at each other. Sapphire and ruby met, and locked. A faint smile twisted on the brunette's face. "He's your cousin."

Seto bowed, chocolate bangs hanging low over his face. "A pleasure to meet you, your Highness."

"Likewise…" The Crown Prince was drawn away before he could say more.

This time his father's smile was nervous. "And Atemu, this is Prince Bakura – your half-brother."

Atemu found he was staring. The half-Egyptian had known he was going to have a new half-brother, but Bakura was so, so…so…_unexpected. _The youth's hair was icy white, his skin pale, and his eyes a bright and glowing _amber. _His attire was much like the elder prince's, but his was made of satin, in silver and the deepest midnight blue. The albino wore a cloak thrown over his shoulders, and a fine silver crown upon his head, sapphires set in the metal.

Bakura smiled faintly, much like Seto had done, but his smile was cold, and his amber eyes were like the stones they resembled – sharp, and hard. "Welcome to England, _Atemu." _He emphasised every syllable separately in his half-brother's name, giving the word a distinctly alien and strange ring to it – and most definetely foreign

Crimson eyes sharpened slightly. "I believe I shall like it here, _Bakura. _Judging by your _warm _greeting I'm sure my life here will be very…_eventful, _to say the least."

"Then I hope you have a nice time." Frost laced Bakura's reply.

"I am sure I shall." Atemu smiled, the warm expression not reaching his eyes.

Their father's eye twitched at the sudden tension in the air. "Atemu, I trust your voyage was not unpleasant?"

"No your majesty, my trip here was quite delightful. Your ships are a great tribute to this noble country." A small tinge of sadness crept into crimson orbs, unnoticed by any of the royals. "Never before have I ever felt so comfortable on water."

"I am glad to hear it." Edward managed to pull off a hearty, though entirely unconvincing, smile. "Now, come, all of you, we _must _show Atemu around his new home. It would not do for him to get lost, would it?"

Bakura smiled at his father, but his amber eyes were fixed firmly on Atemu's ruby. "No father, it simply _wouldn't _do. We must make my _dear _half-brother feel _right _at home."

* * *

"_I am the Child!" – The Book of the Dead, spell 42

* * *

_

Atemu was silent, quiet as he was led around the palace by his…_family. _His companion of earlier – Mahado, if Seto recalled correctly – had been escorted elsewhere, though the blonde had been clearly unwilling to leave his royal charge alone in the company of strangers. Still, what could the man have said? The King had decreed the royal persons were not to be disturbed, and, under this roof, the King's word was _law. _

So Atemu was silent.

It was beginning to irritate Seto. Was the boy dumb? Oh…Bakura would cause hell if the new crown Prince was a simpleton. Then again, the albino would probably cause trouble anyway…but still. Why wasn't Atemu speaking? Surely he wasn't an idiot?

Seto watched his new cousin carefully, not really paying attention to the King's 'tour'. The half-Egyptian really was a pretty boy, his looks enough to charm both genders with ease. To the brunette's surprise, his new cousin was actually _smaller _than Bakura, the difference showing clearly when they passed each other, even though the former was the elder of them. He was also slimmer, the English dress did much to accentuate his slender frame, and the fashion suited him, his golden skin bringing a touch of the exotic to his clothes. The Crown Prince was lovely, there was no denying the fact, but, again, it was to no avail if the boy was dumb.

Almost as if he could hear his cousin's thoughts, Atemu tilted his head slightly, ruby orbs gazing across at Seto.

And the Prince found himself falling.

Atemu's eyes were so very, very…they were _amazing. _They were darkest ruby, almost purple, their shade varying with the changing light and his mood. Inside those deep depths fires blazed, alight with intelligence and life. Humour shone there, combined with a faint twist of the Crown Prince's lips,, a knowing smile, secretive, an almost infinitesimal curve of the lips that suggested a wry astuteness, a self-mocking friendly ease…

"Prince Seto?"

The soft voice jolted the brunette out of his reverie, and Seto suddenly found himself blushing, ruby eyes glittering with traces of amusement.

Atemu's voice was gentle, almost teasing. "You were staring. Did I do something…?"  
"I-_no, _your highness. I was-uh-a little…distracted…"

"By what, may I ask?"

His cousin's blush grew. "I…er…the…_ceiling." _Seto gave an entirely fake, and dreadfully _unconvincing _smile. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"The _ceiling?_" Crimson eyes stared at him like he was mad.

Another unconvincing smile from the eldest prince. "That shade of grey, so hard to imitate…"

"Er…"

"Seto?" Bakura suddenly appeared at the brunette's side, amber eyes suspicious and hand resting rather possessively on the youth's arm. "Cousin, what's wrong? His Majesty is waiting." He nodded ahead, where King Edward was indeed waiting, seemingly studying a tapestry that hung opposite him.

"I-er-" Princess Mary's only child stood, quite literally, in the middle of Bakura and Atemu. The poisonous look the albino was shooting the latter was not lost on the brunette, nor was the narrowing of ruby eyes.

_How many 'Our Fathers' must one say to avoid **this **sort of confrontation?_

"I'm going." Seto carefully detached Bakura's hand from his arm, ignored the startled look in both amber and crimson eyes, and left his two cousins behind him to go make his excuses to the King.

It took a few seconds, but Bakura managed to hide his astonishment beneath his usual veneer. Atemu required no façade; he had been less surprised than his half-brother because he had known Seto for such a short while.

"Atemu! Bakura!" Their father called to them from further along, his nephew having already seen him and quickly left. "Won't you come here?"

The two princes remaining hurried to the sovereign's side, the two smaller frames standing quite noticeably on either side of the King.

* * *

Mahado couldn't have helped himself if he'd tried. He'd always been the more level-headed one out of he and Atemu as a small child, but the same innate curiosity could possess them both at any given time. As soon as the King had given him leave he'd been escorted to his room – and it was quite a lavish one at that. Still, nice as it was he wanted _out. _Here he was, after weeks' worth of travelling on a tiny ship – a remarkably beautiful and fast ship yes, but it was still _tiny _compared to the huge continent of Africa. Even compared to this little island he was on now. But going back to his point. He'd been travelling for _Ra _knows how many weeks, and he was _sick _of staying put. Atemu had been carted off by his father, brother and cousin, and he wanted to _explore._

So here he was.

And there _Atemu _was. With his father. And his half-brother. The King stood in between the two boys, Bakura a pale splash on his left, Atemu a vibrant rainbow on the monarch's right. As Mahado observed from his hiding place around the corner – he'd been told Atemu's tour was a 'family only' affair - they were being shown out over a large balcony, and the sunlight shone on the three royals' faces.

But where was the lanky brunette? Surely he-

"You _do _realise it's rude to snoop?"

Mahado jumped, spinning away from the voice that had sounded so _Ra-damned_ **_close _**to his ear.

The Prince Seto smirked at him, dark chocolate locks spilling into bright blue eyes. "…Tha'rt like a startled _hen, _Master…_Mahado, _wasn't it?"

"_Yes._" The Egyptian couldn't hide the unmistakable _growl _in his voice.

His companion merely smiled irritatingly. "As I was saying…you _do _realise it's rude to snoop on other people?"

"I wasn't _snooping." _

"Then, pray tell, what _were _you doing?"

"I was exploring, and happened to chance upon their royal Highnesses."

Seto snorted. "Since when does 'exploring' entail spying on my family?"

Mahado scowled. "Weren't _thee _meant to be with that 'family' of thine?"

To the blonde's surprise, his companion blushed. "I…I left early. I felt…it wasn't…" He glanced rather helplessly at the figures of Bakura and Atemu on the balcony. "You _saw _them this morning. I was…"

"…Stuck in the middle?"

Blue eyes met blue-green, and understanding was shared. Then:

Seto's lip curled. "Don't be ridiculous."

This time it was Mahado's turn to snort, and his companion's to bristle.

The brunette scowled. "I'm leaving…and _you _better too." He turned on his heel, stalking away with a distinctly stormy air. Mahado rolled his eyes…but he left, heading off in a different direction.

Behind them, a servant hastily ran down the corridor towards the King, guards hurriedly trailing in his wake.

* * *

"Your Majesty! Your _Majesty!" _

Surprised, Atemu turned around from the balcony's railing, ruby eyes widening when he saw a man nearly tripping over himself to get to the King…and a large group of guards doing almost exactly the same behind him.

"What the-?"

"What is it?" King Edward spoke to the servant.

"Sire, it's-" (here the man drew in a great lungful of air) "-the Portuguese Ambassador, sire. He's-er-ill, and he's blaming you, your Majesty. He claims he will send for his Majesty's assistance in obliterating what he is now terming 'this medioacre scrap of a waste heap in the fine seas of the North'." The servant coughed, rubbing his hands together nervously. "He's a trifle upset, your Grace."

The King frowned. "This is the second time this _week!_ Where is the fool?"

"The Hall, sire."

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I will be along presently." He turned to his two children. "Would you mind postponing this till tomorrow?"

"Not at all, your Majesty." Atemu shook his head, a slight smile touching his lips as he stared over the balcony's railings to the many flowers in the garden below. "It does not affect me."

Bakura too, shook his head. "No, father. Deal with the Ambassador."

The King nodded, smile tightly and hurried off, the guards and servant at his side.

It was the first time Atemu and Bakura had been left alone together.

Narrowed amber eyes fixed on the half-Egyptian. "I suppose you're proud of yourself?"

"What?" Startled, Atemu looked at the other.

Bakura repeated his question. "I suppose you're proud of yourself? You and you god-damned mother both near making me a bastard?"

"Don't insult my mother!" The new Prince flared up, suddenly angry. "You know nothing about her!"

"I know she was my father's whore! What kind of woman is _that?! _Dirty, disgusting – not fit for decent company! What kind of _son _would a whore like _that _produce?"

"My mother was not a whore!" Crimson eyes glared into amber, furious.

Amber glared just as furiously back. "How do _you _know? She _died _giving birth to her baby bastard…"

"I am _not _a bastard!"

Bakura's fists clenched. "No, but your slut of a mother bloody damn well tried to make _me _one!"

There was a tense, heavy silence. Both brothers were breathing raggedy, heat and hate radiating off their bodies.

Atemu's voice was softer when he spoke again, though his tone was still cool. "Bakura, I cannot help being _born. _My _mother _could not have helped our father leaving her and marrying _your_ mother. Neither of us could have helped prevent the actions that led to where we stand today. If we cannot help it, we must simply accept it. We are _half-brothers, _you and I; my father is your father."

"_No."_

Darkened, rage-filled amber orbs were defiant, cold and cruel as sharp ice as their owner's head shook softly, snow-white locks falling to frame a demon's face that denied the elder Prince's words. "_Atemu, _I refuse to accept what I can change. My father…he is your father, as sick as it may make me. But you…_you, _Atemu…_you _are no brother of mine." And Bakura turned, not bothering with a goodbye, walking calmly away from the intrusion in his life.

* * *

"How was your tour?" 

Atemu smiled slightly as he looked up at the form of Mahado leaning against his door. "Come in, and I'll tell you."

"Oooo, a bribe."

The Crown Prince's smile turned wicked. "_Nahmen_." (Assuredly.)

Mahado grinned, sauntering into the royal's chambers and over to his Prince's side. Crouching down beside the – seated – other, blue-green eyes met ruby seriously. "How was your first day?"

"You make it sound like _training!" _Atemu laughed, smiling fondly at his friend before gesturing to the space on his seat beside him. "…As weird as the English furniture _is, _old friend, the seats are still infinitely more comfortable than the floor."

His blonde companion snorted, but obliged his wishes. "Don't evade the question. How was your first day?"

His words sobered the wild-haired youth beside him. "It's not over yet. There is a feast tonight, in my honour; the whole court is invited. His Majesty informed me of it during his 'tour'."

Again, Mahado snorted, casually wrapping an arm around his friend's waist and pulling the slender teen into a loose hug. "_Abet." _(_Family.) _The Egyptian pulled back slightly, studying Atemu shrewdly. "Did your brother behave himself?"

Ruby eyes dulled, the prince averting his face from keen scrutiny. Atemu's voice echoed with hesitation and uncertainty. "…We spoke together."

"In your father's hearing?"

"…No, he had left to speak with a foreign ambassador. Prince Seto had left also."

"What did he say?"

The English heir was silent.

"Atemu! _What did he say?"_

"He refuses to acknowledge me as his brother." The words were toneless, lifeless and dead as they fled barely moving lips. A swallow, hands tightening on a cushion-

"_Sa…khenmas…" _Slender fingers, gently untwisting smaller hands and holding them tightly, _"Atemu, somakh-ef. Iaret iaw-ef; wekha iaw-ef. Somakh-ef." _(There…friend…Atemu, forget him. He is a snake; he is a fool. Forget him.)

"I-" Atemu drew in a short, sharp breath, "I am _fine, _Mahado; do not cluck over me." He drew back from the blonde's embrace, shaking his head slightly and setting his shoulders back with his usual vigour. "Why should I care if my half-brother wishes to deny what is in front of his face? I need have nothing to do with him."

"…And what of his Royal Highness, the Prince Seto?"

"He was perfectly courteous to me. I shall treat him the same."

"He seemed rather cavalier to me."

"I can do nothing about that for the present." The Crown Prince stood, brushing the creases out of his doublet with an idle hand. "I have yet to have a conversation with him longer than a few seconds. Now," he turned back to Mahado again, "would you mind very much helping me choose what I should wear tonight? I have _deplorable _taste when it comes to English fashion I am sure-"

"Not if half of the ladies of the court have anything to say about it."

Atemu shot his friend a mock-stern glare. "Will you still help me? It generally takes me a few hours to actually find something that's _wearable _never mind something that suits me."

A barely muffled snicker. "You cannot blame the English for being slightly…_taller _than you, old friend. Most Europeans are."

"No, but I _can _blame them for manufacturing outfits of a ridiculous length. I nearly tripped over that _last _stupid cloak."

"Personally, I almost wish you had of. It would have been interesting to see the nation's reaction if you turned up looking like a drowned rat…"

Atemu smacked him in the arm.

* * *

"There he goes, dressed in his pretty clothes, flanked by his idiotic guards." Bakura's voice was bitter. "Who does he think he is?" 

The albino leant slightly around the inside of the landing balcony, his position allowing him to observe the throngs below going in for the evening feast and remain undetected, a pillar and an unusually large sprig of flowers and ribbons obscuring him from the crowd's view. His cousin stood beside him, blue eyes glowing in the semi-darkness, one hand irritably brushing away an undeterred sparay of leaves that insisted on smacking him in the head and, when he moved them, his face.

Seto's voice was quiet – though laced with a tad irritation due to the foliage's ministrations. "He is Prince Atemu, half Egyptian by his mother's side, your elder and half-brother, and the future King of fair England."

The younger prince scowled. "He is but a few months my elder."

"But your elder he is – though in appearance he seems much younger. As English Law stands, the Crown is rightfully his."

"He should have stayed in Egypt."

Eyes of the deepest lapis lazuli glanced at Bakura. "Such words could be thought treasonous."

Amber orbs darkened. "And _that _would not do – would it? I went to see my father today, but I was barred. Only the fair _Atemu _is allowed to enter his chambers. The _precious, **darling, **_half-Egyptian Crown _Prince."_

Seto's face was blank. "'Twould be best for you to keep silent on such matters, cousin. Atemu is to be King, so why should we make our own lives difficult by scorning him?"

A queer smile tugged on the corner's of Bakura's lips. "Ah, Seto. You always _did _know which side your bread was buttered on…"

"And it would be all the better for you if _you _learnt too."

Bakura smirked. "Don't worry your head over _me, _cousin. I shall be sure to be _most _welcoming to my dear new half-brother."

* * *

It was a large hall, brightly-lit and comfortable, and Eliza's careful decorating earlier was obvious by the copious swathing of roses dangling from beams in the ceiling, vines of creeping ivy and other such clinging plants twining around just-cleaned tapestries. The fire was lit, the floor freshly scrubbed, and the windows were letting in the delicious breeze from the English night outside. 

Food was piled upon the table, the King sitting in state at its head; Bakura and Seto sitting close enough to the sovereign, yet far enough away for their conversation to not offend the greater Highness. The rest of the table was packed with the eagerly chattering members of the King's court.

"The Crown Prince!"

The call sounded through the chamber, and with practised grace many of the courtiers rose to their feet, excluding the King, Bakura and Seto. After a moment's pause, Seto stood also, casting a glance at Bakura, who sat, stubbornly, by his side.

"You should rise."

Slowly, his fists clenching at his side, the albino rose, his amber eyes flashing ire.

The doors to the Hall had been opened, and, flushing slightly under the scrutiny of so many Atemu entered, his friend Mahado firmly entrenched at his side. Both had changed for the evening – as was appropriate -, and many present were once again surprised at the Crown Prince's appearance.

Atemu's black attire of earlier had been discarded, Mahado claiming the colour the English's tone for mourning, instead changing his friend's shade to the one from their native country – pure, snowy white. Gold roses had been embroidered into the glowing material, and the blood red of the sleeves and shorts that accompanied the fine doublet heightened the exotic hue of the boy's hair and eyes. Mahado too had changed, and his clothes were a startling aquamarine, seemingly the same shade as the blonde's eyes for the evening.

Side by side, they were rather a startling pair.

The Prince and his escort seated themselves, and the rest of the court followed, reluctantly returning to their earlier conversations or, in the case of some, happily starting fresh ones with the intent of discussing the new arrivals.

* * *

There was a mountain of food for the feast. Frumenty with venison; salted hart; roast egret, swan and crane; lamprey; pike; heron; carp; kid; perch; rabbit; mutton pasties and baked quinces…and _that _was only the first course! Just as many appeared for the second, among them crayfish; prawns; oysters; conger eels; plover; redshanks; snipe; larks baked in a pie; boiled custard and marchpane. 

There was music, there was dancing, and all were merry – save one.

Anyone with half an eye could see Crown Prince Atemu was miserable; from the way he picked at his food to the way he sat, hopeless and dispirited.

The court just couldn't understand it. Why was the boy sad? Men would _kill _to be in his position! Didn't the lad realise he had been _rescued _fro Egypt and brought to this wonderful country? Whatever was _wrong _with him?

* * *

Bakura sipped his wine, his amber eyes fixed solely on his new half-brother. Seto, who sat beside the albino, was following his example. 

"He looks thoroughly miserable."

"He does, doesn't he?" Bakura finished his cup, calling for a refill. "Your point?"

"Don't be heartless." His cousin picked up a piece of marchpane, eating it in an idle bite. "Don't you care that he's upset?"

"No, should I?"

Seto frowned, not really listening. "Even his friend can't cheer him up."

It was true. Mahado sat at the Crown Prince's side, coaxing the teen to eat. Barely a few scraps had passed the half-Egyptian's lips all evening, _however _much his old friend pleaded. Atemu's face was strained, and he looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than where he actually _was._

"Hmm…" A shrewd smile wormed its way onto Bakura's features. "I do believe my dear half-brother's homesick."

"Homesick?"

"He misses Egypt." Bakura laughed softly. "Oh, I can't _wait _to see his face when they bring out the dessert."

He didn't have to wait long.

Barely a few seconds later the trumpeters announced dessert, which was carried out on the shoulders of four men. It was a giant sphinx – a tribute to the other half of Atemu's line -, nearly three feet tall and made entirely of sugar, covered with almond paste.

Atemu's face went palest white – a rare sight with his golden tan – and his goblet hit the ground with a loud clatter, spilling wine everywhere. There was a tremendous _screech_ as the Crown Prince pushed his chair back sharply and ran out of the Hall, his crimson eyes blurring with tears, muttering a quick "Forgive me" to the stunned King Edward. A few seconds of shocked silence followed then Mahado jumped to his feet also, racing after his royal charge.

Nobody spoke till the echoes of his footfalls had long since faded.

Someone let out a strangled, uneasy laugh, hastily smothered with wine. It was a signal for the chatter to begin.

Bakura smirked. "Well…_that _was interesting."

* * *

Atemu sobbed into Mahado's shoulder. Sad, the Prince's friend could do little but try to comfort him in his grief, for there was nothing he could do to _truly _cure the lad's heartache. 

"Mahado, let me go back home; please, let me go home! I hate it here – I _hate _it -; _please _let me go home!" Ruby eyes were pleading as they looked at the older Egyptian. "I-I'll sneak onto a ship, I'll do _anything! _Just please, _please _Mahado, let me go back home to Egypt!"

"Oh, Atemu…" Mahado's voice was full of pity. "England is your home now."

"It's not! It's _not!" _The Crown Prince was defiant. "How can this be home? I – I _hate_ it, how can I hate somewhere that is truly home?"

"Hate it or not, _this _is our home. Egypt is barred to you – and I also, for I refuse to leave you alone in this strange land."

"Thankyou." Atemu brushed away some of his tears, his voice husky. "Mahado, I can never thank you enough for what you have done. You gave up everything to come with me…"

The courtier smiled, brushing a blonde bang off his charge's face. "…and I would not easily leave you now. Do you think me so heartless? _Khenmas…_this is a strange land true, but it is also a land full of new thoughts and potential. This…this _England…_it will be at the heart of something so much _greater _than itself, you can see it in the way these people hold themselves, the way they dress. Their trade…their Navy…their _pride, _you have the very same blood that is in their veins running through yours. Egypt was wonderful Atemu, and I will sorely miss it; I will never deny that. Yet too, what I also cannot deny is that I wish to be _here _right now…this is where everything is happening! This is where the world is created, this Europe, with these…_Europeans. _They're strange, and odd, and probably as vain and conceited as they can possibly get, but they definetely know how to make things happen."

Slowly, hesitantly, a small smile edged its way onto the crown Prince's face. "…You should be a merchant, old friend. You could charm the hind leg of a donkey…"

"I would willingly do anything Atemu, if only it would make you happy."

"You make me happy by being here…" The Prince laid his head on the other's shoulder, burying himself in the other's embrace.

Mahado smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the smaller youth's forehead. "Then I am happy also."

They sat together for a little while longer the two, no words passing between friends who had known each other since childhood. Eventually though they had to admit defeat, propriety calling them away once more, both returning to the celebratory feast.

Nobody could tell the Crown Prince had been crying.

* * *

'_A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.' – Julius Caesar, IV, ii

* * *

_

Atemu found out later that it had been Bakura's idea for the after-dinner bear-baiting.

The Crown prince found himself seated around the bear ring, Bakura on his left, his father on his right. Mahado and Seto were out of sight, and he was alone.

The bear was led in.

He was enormous, a great beast by the name of Roland, completely blind. The royal bearward let loose a pack of dogs, and Roland struck out sightlessly, managing to kill two mastiffs with a single swipe of his powerful paw. Several more dogs were released into the ring, and soon bear and dogs were bloody and dazed.

Roland staggered around the ring, his fur matted with blood, stumbling over dead and dying dogs. The noise of howling dogs, roaring bear and cheering spectators was deafening, the stench of blood enough to make you sick even _without _the gruesome sights.

The bearward looked up at King Edward, waiting for a signal.

The sovereign smiled, turning to Atemu. "What shall it be, my son? Is it life or death for poor old Roland? You must say!"

Atemu felt sick, dazed from the gory sights. _What country is this, that they pit animals against ach other for sport?_ He couldn't have the bear killed, it had suffered enough.

"Father, I-"

Out of the corner of his eye, the crown Prince saw Bakura smirk.

_Ra…he **knows **what I was going to say! And…_ruby eyes quickly scanned the crowd, their bloody faces gleaming with bloodlust, _and he **knows **it will upset the crowd…He has set me up!_

Atemu swallowed, suddenly declaring, "I say let him be killed!" It was what the crowd wanted to hear and an almighty cheer went up – but not from Bakura.

"Well said!" King Edward beamed, signing to the bearward. One last dog was sent in to lunge at the wounded bear's throat.

The huge animal fell and expired, taking with it any remaining hopes of Atemu's friendship with his half-brother. Bakura shot the Crown Prince a look of pure loathing, a low hiss escaping his lips.

"You think because you killed a bear the English will love you? Think again! England is a difficult country to impress – no matter _how _pretty your eyes are."

* * *

There were exactly twenty beams in his ceiling, Seto noted, with exactly four painted panels between each piece of wood and its neighbour. And that panel there, with the image of the crown in the thorn bush, was the oldest panel in the room. 

But…_why _did he care again?

Oh. ThatOr rather _that. _There was a lot of that. Quite distracting really. Pretty much summed up everything his life was at the moment. Wait a minute…_life? _It seemed more like living _hell _at the present.

The brown-haired prince rolled over onto his side, staring broodingly at the velvet drapes that ensconced his four-poster bed.

There was a pretty new prince in the country, and he'd brought a _friend _with him to bonny ol' England. To be blunt, Bakura _loathed _him. And he'd been blatantly obvious about it. How could the King have missed it? _Had _he missed it? It was hard to tell with His Majesty… Then there was the question asked of him a few months ago. Would he marry Princess Kisara of France? It would be an alliance between the two constantly warring countries, though the marriage was no true way of securing peace. Many, many years of treaties and pacts had made little difference.

Another roll in his bed, blue gaze directed at the ceiling once more. Could he _really _afford to say no? King Edward had sworn the decision was his, he would not meddle in Seto's business, but _surely _to refuse King Francis' offer would be disastrous to political affairs? It was bad enough as of late; Spain was still fuming over the constant battering their ships received at the hands of the English's' – not that the English Crown could ever be _directly _linked with the plundering of the Spanish silver route but _still…_

And Spain and France were both Catholic. Catholic countries, ruled by Catholic Kings. Oh _yes…_just watch Seto – the nephew of the _Protestant_ King of England – turn down the _Catholic_ King of France's offer of matrimony to his youngest daughter. Wouldn't _that _be fun?

'_Yes sir, no sir, oops I accidentally started a war sir. With France? Oh, that's nothing new._'

What about betrothal? He could propose a betrothal – it _was _customary after all. He could ask for a _longer _engagement, claim it was a test to see if he was worthy enough of the princess' hand. There. Would _that _work? It was flattering to France, and it offered him a chance to escape from the marriage if he _really _decided he couldn't go through with it.

But…why _shouldn't _he wish to go through with it? He didn't know, only that every time he thought of marrying Kisara his stomach twisted uncomfortably and he felt like he was going to be sick. And he felt so dreadfully, _dreadfully _cold. It didn't honestly bear to think about. Not now, not yet, it was too _soon. _Rather dwell on the intriguing Crown Prince Atemu, with his strange, exotic looks, and his friend, the Egyptian Master Mahado who looked European. Because Atemu, unlike Kisara, wasn't likely to start a war – was he?

* * *

**Shadow: **As per the new policy, I can't reply to reviews in my chapters (though I've yet to actually _find _where it says that…) Still, I'll answer most signed reviews, and/or burning questions/problems/general rants in the pieces before and after the update. Like I'm doing now. - 

The genre of this story is wavering at the moment between (and quote) general adventureness and shonen-ai romance…Even if there _was _shonen-ai this fic isn't 'focused' on the romance…if people understand that? There's a story, the shonen-ai would just…be part of it. …But I'm not sure. (Hence the wavering.) Is anyone out there _strongly _opposed to shonen-ai? I don't know…

…

I've heard of the PS2 game, Duelists of the Roses. This fic isn't based in any way off it, but mentions of the War of the Roses (the real 'war' the game is based off) appear every so often, as _that _leads to a lot of discussions about Atemu's heritage, and the English Crown in general. The 'Tudor Rose' (my title!) is symbolic of many things, which will be revealed throughout the course of this story.

Hugs to _Darkrose Dragonkin, JewelValentine, Skittles the Sugar Fairy, Kayono, Heavenly Days, MyAgent'llSendYouAGiftBasket, Hedwig the MillenniumOwl, Nefertiri Riddle, Hikari Daeron, Aritoki-ato-Chitose _and _Isis the Sphinx. _You were my first reviewers for this fic! (hugs)


	3. The court's a learning place

**Shadow: **To put it bluntly, I _hate _this chapter. It's given me such a headache to write out – but then, I love it too. There are at least two key scenes in here, and one of 'em gave me the summary for this fic.

…

This story spans over more than a year or so, and because I _really _don't want it to go on for forever and a day, later chapters will often jump from important event to important event, season to season. At the present moment everything happening is very much an 'important event', and so I spend longer going into detail. But expect a jump of a few weeks to reach next chapter.

Ah, but yes. Read, laugh, and cringe in embarrassment for our poor Atemu as he suffers at the hands of his menservants, and thoroughly makes an idiot of himself in his nightshirt.

**Notes:**

I made a mistake in the first chapter – repeatedly; everyone kept calling Seto and Bakura 'your majesties', which is a big no-no. Only the reigning monarch (and spouse) can be called _'your Majesty' –_every other possessing royal blood is 'your Highness', the reigning monarch 'your most royal Highness'. (That's been bugging me for a while, and I forgot to rant about it last chapter.)

Ah…and the dinner last chapter! There's this bit before Atemu runs out, when he first enters the Hall? Well, English etiquette at the time demanded you show respect to anyone higher to you, and that you address them formally unless given permission not to. Since Atemu is Crown Prince and Bakura is only an 'ordinary' Prince, Atemu's ranking is above Bakura's (and Seto's). Only those higher than you can ignore the rule. Basically, this means if Atemu enters a room where the King, Bakura and Seto are sitting, Bakura and Seto have to stand up. If the Bakura enters a room where the King, Seto and Atemu are sitting, only Seto has to rise – but that's getting really, _really _technical. As both Seto and Bakura are just plain princes, I think everyone would just remain seated. Seto and Bakura could be seen as possessing equal rank.

…_Everyone _has to rise where the King is concerned.

For this update…politics in Tudor England wasn't all that different to politics today – in England, anyways. (Everyone's still back-stabbing each other…) Slight differences? Tudor England was a dictatorship, and upsetting the ruler equals very short life span. Other than that, view the King as the PM and the court as the other politicians. Ambassadors are as now as they once were – a way to make peace with other countries, keep up good relations, and spy on what everyone else is doing.

If you're surprised at Atemu's linguistic talent in this – _don't be. _Anyone even _vaguely _royal/noble was expected to be smart, and lessons in Europe at the time of the Tudors were very extensive. Royals were expected to be able to speak at _least _Latin, French, English and Spanish – ancient Greek was a _must _have. Then of course there was mathematics, philosophy – both biblical and Greek -, religion, music, riding, hunting, dancing, archery, sword-play, jousting…the list goes on.

More notes at the bottom.

* * *

**The Tudor Rose**

**Chapter 3: The court's a learning place**

The sound of rapid voices woke Atemu the following morning.

Groaning quietly the youth blinked open liquid eyes to blearily gaze around the lavish chambers that had been given to him, letting out a soft cry and raising his arm swiftly to cover delicate orbs from the harsh sunlight that was then shining directly in his face.

The conversation stopped.

Atemu let out a drowsy mumble in his native tongue, requesting shade from the bright light.

"Highness?" The query was confused.

"Oh…" _English, Atemu. _Slow, fuzzy thoughts surfaced in the half-awake boy's mind. _They speak English. _"I…" A lick of dry lips, rough throat forced to form foreign words. "Please…close the shade? It hurts my eyes…"

There was a flurry of movement, whispering, and even through his closed lids Atemu could feel the change in light in the room.

"Highness." A voice sounded quite loud – as if its owner stood beside the bed the Prince lay in. Cracking open his eyes to comfortable dimness, Atemu found that to be true – a man stood there; face a schooled blank and expression patient.

Atemu looked at him blankly, still lying on the sheets of his too-big bed.

The man looked at him.

Atemu looked back.

An awkward cough.

A perplexed stare.

The stranger seemed embarrassed. "Highness…" He coughed again, "May I speak or no?"

_Ah!_ Crimson eyes widened, and Atemu sat bolt upright, flushing a dull red. "Yes…" The Prince's cheeks were as red as his eyes. "Yes, of course." As a relieved expression descended over the man's – servant's, Atemu hastily corrected himself – face, the eldest son of the Tudor lineage inwardly berated himself. He had forgotten the English's inane love of society, and strict rules dictating class and status. A servant could not speak to their master without direct permission…was it any wonder he'd embarrassed the man in front of him so? Everyone was expected to know their place in life and stick to it; it was _unheard _of for one of low stature to inform their betters of the twisting ins and outs of pompous, stuck-up Tudor society.

_This is just going to be a __**great **__day…_

The manservant cleared his throat. "Your Highness, his Royal Highness the Prince Seto is awaiting your presence in your outer chambers. He wishes me to inform you that his Majesty the King has requested he show you around the Royal Palace of Westminster, to further help you settle into your father's Court."

"He – _what?" _Atemu stared at the manservant, astonished, clutching the thick sheet covering him with his hand.

The servant sighed. "His royal Highness the Prince -"

"I-no-sorry, I heard you the first time, I…" Atemu waved the man off distractedly, pushing back the sheet he'd been gripping up until that point and sliding across the dauntingly large bed that was now his own. (Really, whoever had come up with the term 'King-size' needed to have another look at the Tudor workmanship. This was _double _King-size – and then some.) Bare feet touched the cold floor, the Crown Prince resisting the urge to pull his feet back up again with a jerk into the warmth of his person and covers, and Atemu straightened. A wave of shivers ran all the way down his spine as the entirety of his body left the cocoon of his bed, the thin nightshirt that he wore doing _nothing _to conserve body heat. Sure, it fell to about mid-calf (the half-Egyptian had the sneaky feeling it was only meant to fall to knee-height but _damn it, _the English were still bloody taller than him), but its fine fabric did nothing to alleviate the chill of this northern land. Even if this was supposed to be _mild _for England.

"Your Highness?" Another manservant – not the one who had approached him before and looking to be about Atemu's age – was eyeing him with some trepidation. This foreign prince was nothing like the other princes, from what he had seen and heard of him, and he was infinitely wary of surprises.

Atemu ignored him. Well…that wasn't quite correct. The servants clustered in Atemu's bedchambers that morning – three in all - could only feel dismay as it became evident the English Heir to be wasn't even _listening _to them – he was off in a little distracted bubble of his own. And-

"Your Highness!" Shock, horror and outrage flared to life on the faces of the poor nobles who had become Atemu's menservants as their charge suddenly moved over to the door separating the Crown Prince's sleeping quarters from his greeting chambers, pushing it open and stepping though, completely _oblivious _to the fact he was still in his nightwear and completely unfit for company.

"Oh…" The youngest manservant let out a low groan, burying his face in his hands.

The other two merely left their compatriot to his woe, and ran after the new prince in a flurry. "Your _Highness!"

* * *

_

Seto was fed up. Under the eyes of the guards and menservants filling Atemu's outer chambers he was bored witless, and uncomfortable sitting there in silence just _waiting. _Having being cornered by his uncle upon his rising the eldest prince had reluctantly agreed to play guide to his foreign cousin. The King himself was busy, unable to finish the tour he'd promised his son, and he felt guilty because of it.

So _Seto _automatically got roped in to help.

It wasn't that he _minded _showing the new Crown Prince around. It wasn't even that he minded what _Bakura _would say about his showing the new Crown Prince around. Partially, it was the Crown Prince _himself._ From what Seto had seen the day before, Atemu was a little…_odd _to say the least. A little different.

_You say that like it's a bad thing… _The brunette sighed, shifting on his seat. _But isn't it? Those who stand out get dragged down, and those who don't fit in are beaten until they eventually cave. _Society was cruel; he himself could vouch for the fact. It was _wrong _to be different, and wrong things found themselves quickly eliminated in Tudor England.

Deep down inside, Seto was thankful to his uncle. The King had done him a favour by asking him to give Atemu a tour – and any favour asked was an order demanded, where royalty was concerned -, as Seto really _did _want to get to know his new cousin. The little Seto _had _seen had piqued his interest, the gleam of ruby eyes demanding he at _least _speak to their exotic owner. This…'tour' was a good enough excuse to do so. And a good enough cover should any questions be asked in Court. And questions _would _be asked – weren't they always?

"Seto?"

The soft voice broke the brown-haired prince's errant thoughts, recalling him to the present and causing him to turn around to finally greet his cousin's presence.

Seto's mouth fell open in shock.

Atemu was…Atemu…Atemu was wearing nothing but a nightshirt, the thin cloth dropping from his shoulders to mid-calf. Spiky hair still tousled from sleep hung about his face, and his expression was naively innocent.

Seto was floored. How could Atemu just _stand there?! _Didn't he notice what he was _wearing?!_

_Or more, what he __**isn't, **_the nasty little voice in the brunette's head piped up. Flushing red, Seto averted his eyes from his cousin's, blue gaze suddenly very much focused on an intricate tapestry on the wall. Propriety meant…decorum said…oh _damn it, _Atemu shouldn't just be standing there in his nightclothes!

"Seto?" The Crown Prince repeated his earlier sentence, his voice sounding confused.

"_Your Highness!" _The yell floated out from Atemu's inner sanctum, two _extremely _harried-looking young menservants tumbling out the doors behind the half-Egyptian prince and hastily wrapping the flame-eyed youth with what _looked _like a bedsheet. Whatever it was it _swamped _Atemu's frame, heavy cloth knocking the Crown Prince over and sending him sprawling on the ground.

Stunned silence fell, in which the occupants of the room could _hear _themselves blushing.

_Well, _Seto cleared his throat awkwardly, pink tint in his usually pale cheeks and gaze still firmly fixed on the tapestry. _This seems to have started off well.

* * *

_

'_O Isis, Goddess great and glorious'. – Texts from the Pyramid of Unas, on the Giza Plateau

* * *

_

"This is the Chapel. Only the royal family may pray here."

Surprised at the size of the room considering that only a select few could use it, Atemu stepped into the Chapel. "But it's so big!"

Seto merely raised and eyebrow, leaning against the Chapel's walls. "You expected less, your Highness?"

Atemu coloured faintly. Really, he'd been doing that a lot that morning. After being dragged back into his bedchamber he had been forcibly washed and dressed by his menservants, released only from their flustered, beady gazes when Seto had grabbed his arm and pulled him from his chambers completely. Once the menservants were firmly behind them Atemu's arm had been dropped and the Prince's accompanying guards had been shooed away, Seto stalking off down the corridor at quite a fair speed, Atemu having to do two steps to match his taller cousin's one.

"Isis!" A white statue of a beautiful woman cradling a baby child caught the Crown Prince's attention. It was in an alcove at the side of the Chapel, candles and flowers laid about the statue's feet. Atemu, rapt, looked up at it.

Seto frowned, glancing up at the sculpture as well. "…Don't you mean _Mary?" _

Atemu hastily back-stepped. "I…yes, of course. It's the Blessed Mother. But…it just looks like-" he faltered, catching blue eyes fixed on him shrewdly, "it looks like an old goddess, from the tales."

"Such goddesses are blasphemy." Seto's tone was dismissive. "It is pointless – and _unwise – _to draw similarities between them and the Mother of Christ. There are always those who would be inclined to…look on you in a less favourable light, shall we say, if such inferences were known."

The warning in his cousin's voice was clear. Atemu nodded simply, moving away from the statue of Mary and heading for the Chapel door and exit. "…May we leave now?"

"We go where _you _wish to go, your HighnessHighnesH…" A vaguely dull note had entered his companion's voice. "You are…'above' me." Distaste. "It is you who dictates this 'tour'."

The Crown Prince frowned at the stupidity of such inane rules. "How can I dictate to you when I do not know where I am going?"

Seto paused for a moment, thinking about that one. "I…don't rightly know." He confessed, for the first time that morning actually sounding like a boy his own age and not some bored older adult mouthing words to a spoilt royal brat. "Maybe you could suggest where you want go and I could take you there if the palace has such a place?"

"I'd like that." Atemu smiled. "Could you…this palace has gardens, doesn't it? Could you show me them?"

"…I don't see why not…" Seto's expression lightened somewhat – _almost _a smile at the younger boy -, and he left the Chapel at a pace more accommodating to the Crown Prince than his earlier stride.

A slight wash of hope crept into Atemu's heart. _Maybe, just maybe-_

"Your _Highnesses." _A multicoloured _thing _suddenly stepped into the royals' paths with a flourish. "What a stroke of grace to meet you!"

Seto inwardly groaned, but made the obligatory introductions, motioning a hand to the man-thing in front of himself and his cousin. "Prince Atemu, this is the Spanish Ambassador – Bernardino de Mendoza."

'Bernardino' bowed again, raising the Crown Prince's hands to his lips. "Your Highness_... la corona no enjoya a sí mismo puede tener vela a su belleza._" His voice was oily.

Atemu's smile wavered slightly as he extracted his hand, hiding it discreetly at his side, but it soon strengthened again, barely missing a beat.

"_Un cumplido muy amable, señor, aunque usted me halaga __muchamente__." _His accent was near flawless. "…There are fairer creatures than I abroad."

Bernardino's eyes were bright, a gleam Atemu wasn't all too sure he liked present when the Spaniard looked up at him. "_¿Usted habla mi idioma, su Agudeza? _That is, you speak Spanish?_"_

The Crown Prince nodded. _"Con fluidez,__ señor_I find it a very beautiful language to study."

"How is your Latin?"

Now Atemu was confused. Where was this going? "I am proficient in Latin, English, French and Spanish,_ señor, _Egyptian being my native tongue. I speak a little Italian, and am fluent enough in ancient Greek."

"Then it would appear you are a natural linguist!" Bernardino smiled, and the Crown Prince was suddenly reminded of a crocodile – the Ambassador's toothy grin was closely akin to that of the beasts of the great Nile. Atemu hated the Spaniard's oily voice, syrupy sweet and fake. Even worse was the calculating look in the man's eye, as if he were sizing the teen up for something.

"No _, señor_that I am not, but I do love to learn the many languages spoken in this World."

Seto broke in. "Sir Bernardino, I am afraid his Highness Prince Atemu and I must depart your company, as my cousin has need to speak with other members of the court."

The Spanish Ambassador nodded. "Then I must bid you good day." He bowed. "Good day, your Highnesses…Prince Seto, Prince Atemu…" He caught the youngest's eye, "_Fue un honor de encontrarle, el Príncipe del Subió.__" _

Atemu smiled, relieved to be getting away. "_Igualmente__señor Bernardino. _I bid you good day."

* * *

"Must we go?"

Seto found crimson eyes locked on him, for once large and wide and pleading. He _fumbled_ for words. "I – that is – there is much of the palace left to see, your Highness. The Court…" They had been in the gardens all morning, ever since they had left the Chapel. There was so very little time left before dinner… "Do you truly like it so much here?"

The Crown Prince blinked once, twice; pausing to think awhile before replying to his question. "It's…" A slow smile spread over his face as he glanced upwards, expression suddenly dreamy. "You can see the sky here."

Why _that _of all things appealed to the half-Egyptian was quite beyond Seto – and he made that quite clear in his usual, less-than-flowery manner. "What?"

"The sky," Atemu reiterated, "you can see it when you look up."

"Well I most certainly wasn't looking _down _for it." His companion's reply was pointed. The small glare the brunette received both pleased him (he'd managed to wipe the idiotic expression off his cousin's face) and annoyed the hell out of him. _"What? _Your _Highness, _sky is sky. It's up there; it's _blue_, and your fascination with it is completely and utterly beyond me. Why would you care so much that you can see it here?"

Atemu sighed. "When I first arrived in London, I couldn't see the sky." His words were soft. "Not properly, anyway. The streets were so narrow; the buildings leaning towards one another, hunched like old misers over their hoards of money. There was people, noise, everywhere…and I couldn't look up and see the blue. I…_needed _to see the sky."

Seto was quiet for a few seconds, studying his cousin. Bakura's words from the banquet the night before drifted into his mind, and he asked: "You…you miss Egypt, don't you?"

"I miss my home."

"…But you must make your home here now…" The eldest prince was now truly striving to understand. "And so…you seek the sky? _Why?"_

A long silence, the Crown Prince seemingly debating whether to answer the set question or not. "…Though…it is true the sun here is weaker…" Slow, meandering words, "…and the air here is full of water...the sky is still blue. Forever, _endless _blue…" Atemu looked his cousin's way, words once more simple. "…The sky here is the same as it was at home."

"Oh." For a long, long while there was silence between the two boys. Birds flew overhead, a few insects buzzing abstractedly in the flowers or the leaves or _somewhere _about them, and the sky was blue, blue, _blue. _The English sun was rather pathetic that morning, but the fluffy clouds scudding across the upside-down ocean above them made it a typically nice day. It was so terribly mundane to Seto, but he guessed to Atemu, it must all be new. _Foreign. _But…this was not the time to dwell.

"Your Highness…we should really go; it is time to eat."

The Crown Prince cast one last, longing look at the sky before sighing, gesturing towards the doors that led back into the palace proper. "Lead on, then."

It was with some relief his cousin left the gardens - and Atemu's strangeness- behind, but Seto found his relief rather short-lived when he discovered himself walking alone down one corridor. Hastily backtracking he found his distracted relative a few halls back, studying the carvings in an ornate stair banister with vague interest. The boy glanced up when Seto approached, smiling faintly as he ran his fingers along the patterns carved into the wood. "These flowers…I see them everywhere. What are they?"

Seto's answer was polite. "They are the royal emblem, your Highness – the Tudor Rose. A long while ago, our great-grandfather, Henry VII, fought the King of the time for the English Crown. The battle was called the War of the Roses, for the King's emblem was the white rose – of the House of York -, and our great-grandfather's was the red – the coat for the House of Lancaster. When our great-grandfather won the war, he set about trying to establish a lasting peace by marrying a woman from the opposing House. He married Elizabeth of York. To show this new alliance King Henry had a new royal emblem created; the red rose of Lancaster and the white rose of York together, as one flower – the Tudor Rose. It has been the Tudor emblem ever since."

"It is very beautiful…" Hesitantly, Atemu stroked the carving, admiring the workmanship.

His cousin stared at him for a few moments, then spoke. "Your Highness…Atemu…the Tudor Rose is indeed beautiful, but it is a flower that thrives on blood. It is a hungry rose, and much blood has been spilt so its great hunger is abated, and it continues to grow."

"No rose is without its thorns." Atemu's voice was quiet.

A bitter smile touched the corner of the elder prince's lips. "Then the Tudor Rose is a bloody rose indeed, for I know much of Europe has felt the prick of its barbs at least once. There is much reason to fear those that hold the English crown in the grip of the rose…"

* * *

'_Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness.' – Sonnet 96

* * *

_

Bakura was annoyed. It was beginning to be a constant state with him really as of late, but he could not curb his temper even if he had wanted to. A large part of his fury was founded in jealousy, the rest in contempt. Atemu! A pretty, foreign boy, who oh-so-casually walked in and stole everything that was his by _right _away from him. The boy his father so obviously loved best, the cousin even _Seto _was moving away from him for. Seto, who had been at his side since he could first recall beginning to remember. And everyone encouraged it! Was…was he so wrong? So sinful? So… That those beneath him could condemn him, that those above him could strip what little defence his soul had left from him…and adore _Atemu. _

The injustice of it stung. The hurt he refused to admit it brought was an arrow through his heart. The loneliness that it left behind…

* * *

"I _thought _you wanted to go for dinner."

Seto sighed, casting a glance at the half-amused smile that adorned Atemu's face. "We _are _going for dinner. Presently. You have to be taken around to see some of the Court first."

"Why?"

"Because I would never hear the end of it if I did not make sure you were personally introduced to the Princess Elizabeth, and she is visiting the Palace partially because of you." The brunette paused. "Besides…dinner probably won't be ready yet."

"…Why must I be personally introduced to the princess?" Atemu was curious, ignoring the last comment. "Is she so influential?"

Seto smiled faintly, not really at him. "She is _highly _influential, your Highness; she is the King's half-sister, and a wise and pleasant woman. His Majesty consults her on matters of great importance and state – it is said it was she who devised England's current religious situation."

"…I find it surprising she was never married away to another country."

A shrug. "It was never through lack of offer, I assure you. The princess showed no desire to settle down though and marry, and His Majesty had no wish to make her. Besides…an unmarried princess is good for relations between countries, _especially _when it looks likely said princess will become Queen of her country someday. Everyone was so busy wooing our aunt they had no time to go to war against her –then- ill brother. And…why would His Majesty give up one of his closest and wisest advisors?"

Atemu ceded the point to his cousin and remained silent as he followed Seto down one of the many corridors in Westminster Palace. In and out and around the brunette wove, until he eventually stopped in front of a pair of wood-panelled doors, speaking bluntly to the pair of guards who stood outside.

"Inform Her Highness of the arrival of myself and His Highness the Crown Prince Atemu at once."

One of the guards immediately disappeared through the doors, the other hastily bowed. Seto ignored him; Atemu stared curiously. The other guard reappeared, ducking his head to the two princes and muttering a quick: "Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth bids you welcome, your Highnesses." He opened the door wide, and the two princes entered.

The princess wasn't all that hard to spot, even in a room full of women. As the door clicked behind them Atemu knew almost at once which of the ladies his (half-) aunt was, if simply for the presence she radiated.

Elizabeth was old; older than his father, but held a kind of austere beauty in her face and pose that never fades. Her skin was whitened with powder and her hair was red-orange and fine ("A wig," Seto whispered to him), piled up on top of her head and threaded with pearls. The princess' dress was emerald green and voluminous, layers of skirts rustling elegantly as she moved. A pristine white frill decorated the great lady's throat, golden necklaces and pearls falling to her waist in glittering splendour. She was still slim – delicate – but radiated life, vigour and strength that belied the age Atemu knew had to lie on her bones.

…Should anyone have ever doubted the glory of the English monarchy, they need have but _glanced _at Elizabeth Tudor dressed so fine, and their doubts would have been well laid to rest.

"I'm delighted to meet you at last, nephew." The princess held out her hand to him, the other holding a closed fan. Atemu took it and stopped. What did you do? Shake it?

Seto felt a smile twitch the corner of his lips, murmuring a sly, "You kiss it, cousin, and then you let go."

Atemu blushed red, quickly kissing the extended hand and dropping it.

Elizabeth laughed lightly, smiling. "…They tell me your name is Atemu, nephew."

The Crown Prince nodded, still pink. "It is, your Highness."

Elizabeth nodded, before shooing her ladies-in-waiting out of the room. They left quickly and quietly, setting down the various things they had been doing without a murmur. When they had gone, the woman spoke again. "Aunt." She tapped her second-eldest nephew on the shoulder with her furled fan. "I simply _abhor _the titles when it is but family present. I am your aunt, nephew mine, and you will address me so in private."

"Yes, aunt." Atemu replied obediently.

"Good boy!" Elizabeth smiled. "I think you shall do well here…" She tapped him under the chin, tilting the prince's head up to look at her. "Yes…you have the Tudor blood. You can see it in your eyes; in you fire…the way you hold yourself." She seemed pleased. "You have your father's nose child. It is a fine nose. But…I would say the rest of you is down to your mother. She must have been a beautiful woman."

"I am told she was, aunt."

"And you do her justice." Elizabeth let go of the youth's chin, unfurling her fan and flapping it about. "You have a noble face, nephew. And such stunning eyes! You shall have women falling over themselves to please you."

Atemu only blushed again. "…I-er- thankyou, aunt."

The King's half-sister rolled her eyes. "And you are so _polite! _So _very _unlike Seto darling here…" She ruffled the brunette's hair making the boy flush, ducking out of her grasp.

"_Aunt!"_

"But still," Elizabeth turned back to the half-Egyptian, "you _are _rather a welcome sight."

* * *

Atemu's head was reeling. To put it bluntly, his aunt was a very…_interesting _woman, to say the least. She was lively and vivacious, and was perfectly capable of holding her own in a conversation against two supposedly clever young men, thoroughly embarrassing both Atemu and Seto with her sharp intellect and deductions. She was open, friendly and caring, and Atemu loved her at once. Even _Seto – _the youth Atemu was beginning to doubt actually _had _a personality that didn't resemble a rock – loosened up under his aunt's enthusiasm, and his smile was both rare and stunning to see.

…Just _how _Atemu had been coerced into 'escorting' his aunt to dinner was beyond him though – especially since it seemed more that the princess had led _him _along, like some prettily trained royal pet. But that was done now, and Elizabeth was curtsying gracefully to his father, the King, and spreading her skirts as a servant pulled out a chair for her and arranging themselves about her comfortably as she sat down. Atemu and Seto bowed and took their own seats, King Edward smiling benignly at them both. It was clearly just the immediate royal family eating there alone, and Atemu was relieved. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach such public meals as last night's feast every meal, everyday. But…he'd have to see what Mahado did. He _couldn't _always leave his friend to eat alone…

Bakura turned up, surprising all present. No-one had really expected the white-haired teen to show – and least of all on _time. _Bakura's sheer lack of all punctuality was legendary, as well as his general attendance. The youngest prince merely shot a caustic glance at the mildly startled looks that were aimed his way, bowing only partially to his father before taking a seat, almost defiantly.

It came really as a shock that the meal was so quiet.

Servants brought the food in on carefully prepared trays, taking them away when waved over to do so. There was no talk until the dessert was well underway, and when it came, most of the room jumped.

King Edward spoke. "Atemu."

Startled, the Crown Prince choked on his food. Blushing furiously under the combined gazes of his family he coughed, taking a hasty swallow of the wine that had been poured into his goblet. "..Yes, your Majesty?" His voice was croaky from coughing.

"_Father."_

"Yes, father." Atemu's blush wasn't going away anytime soon. "Was there something you wished of me?"

"Yes, actually." Edward nodded a head for one of the men hovering at his shoulder to take his plate away, speaking after the servant had swooped down to remove it. "I wish you to take lessons with Seto and Bakura."

"_What?" _Bakura's head shot up.

"In what, yo-father?" The Crown Prince hastily corrected himself.

"In all the things a prince should learn." The King's voice was calm. "Philosophy, religion, languages-"

"Uncle, my pardon for the interruption, but my cousin Atemu is already proficient in languages." Seto spoke up, taking a sip of his wine. "I can vouch for his Spanish, to say the least. The ambassador of that nation was quite impressed with his fluency."

"Oh?" Elizabeth turned to smile at Atemu. "You never mentioned that to me before!"

"I beg your pardon, aunt." The ruby-eyed boy bowed his head slightly, blonde bangs slipping over his face. "It quite slipped my mind."

Edward coughed, intruding into the conversation before his half-sister could draw the talk too far off topic. "_Nevertheless…_Atemu, I wish you to take the lessons. I shall talk to your tutors after a week or so, and see what they recommend be done with you."

"As you command, father." The half-Egyptian sat quietly in his seat.

"Good." The King smiled, pleased, and then shifted his gaze to his nephew. "Seto, I wish to inform you that King Francis and his daughter, the Princess Kisara will be arriving soon into the next season. My ambassador from their Court says they make preparations for the betrothal with great joy, and will sail as soon as they are done and the winds are fine. There will be a Ball, a feast to celebrate their arrival."

This time, it was _Bakura _who choked, eyeing his cousin with some horror. "You _agreed _to the betrothal?!"

Seto shrugged eloquently. "It seemed best."

"…My cousin is getting married?" Atemu was more than curious now, staring at the cool brunette who had led him around for so long that morning. "To whom?"

"A French princess." It was the blue-eyed youth himself who answered. "Kisara, King Francis' youngest, and some say most amenable, daughter."

"Do you love her?"

Surprised at the odd question, Seto stared at Atemu. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you love her?" The Crown Prince repeated patiently.

"I have never met her before in my _life." _Vague bewilderment now.

He wasn't the only one. Confusion clouded crimson irises. "…But how can you marry someone you do not love?"

Bakura cut in suddenly, sharp and scornful. "What does _love _have to do with anything? Marriage is for money and power, for the provision of heirs for the continuation of such things. One does not look for _love_ going into marriage."

For a few seconds, Atemu was rendered speechless. Then, he turned back to Seto. "You would tie yourself for the rest of your life to a woman you may or may not like simply so that she may bear you a legitimate child?"

"Why not?" Bakura was taking great delight in his half-brother's mystification. "It is what is done."

"…Love…sometimes comes later, Atemu." Elizabeth was gentle. "As Bakura says, marriages here are often more political alliances than ought else. Sometimes…there are the lucky few, who fall in love with the one they are tied to."

"I loved your mother, Atemu." King Edward was kind to his son.

"But…yours was not political…"

"No, that was _my _mother." Bakura's hard-edged words had returned.

"The late Queen Susan was from a prestigious and powerful noble family here." Elizabeth explained. "Marrying into them kept them under control. The fact my late sister-in-law was such a beautiful, sweet woman was but an added blessing."

"Oh." Atemu thought silently for a few moments, thoughts slowly slotting into place in his mind. He had heard of marriages of convenience before, of course; there were always 'accidents', whatever part of the world you were from, and children born mysteriously early in the marital bed. But marriage for _control… _

A blunt question from his half-brother startled he half-Egyptian out of his thoughts.

"You will join me in archery this afternoon, Atemu?" Bakura's question was abrupt. "You have nothing else to do now your tour with our dear cousin has been concluded."

"I – yes, of course." The Crown Prince pushed his bangs back off of his face, tucking them behind his ear. "If His Majesty permits it?" He cast a glance to their father.

King Edward nodded. "I see no reason why not."

* * *

Seto was glad to escape the rest of his family. The whole 'family-dinner' had unsettled him considerably; it had been…_odd. _Atemu had raise some strange points, things Seto himself had never considered. And why would he? Such thoughts of love were idealistic and naïve, as the Crown Prince was if he thought any form of life in the high politics of Europe could ever be that way. _Love…_who honestly considered _love _where marriage was concerned? As Bakura had put it, marriage was for wealth, power and heirs. Marriage was an alliance of convenience, a truce between two enemies held only by the fruit born of the marital bed.

His feet took him god knows where as his mind rambled, and it was with some surprise Seto found himself staring into the slightly astonished gaze of one blonde Egyptian – _Mahado. _The surprise in the other's eyes quickly vanished, and was replaced by hard glass.

"Highness." His bow was stiff, short and formal. _Clearly _performed with reluctance, and his voice was unfriendly. It was obvious the man wanted so very much to be somewhere else.

To spite him, Seto decided to stay, thereby forcing the other to keep his company. "Master Mahado." His tone was pleasantly cool. "What a _pleasure _to meet you again." Seto disliked the man. He did not really know why, only that the very _sight _of the blonde with the mixed-colour eyes made his every hackle rise. Perhaps when he saw the loyal youth, so close in age to he, he saw something buried there, something that he was not, and could only ever aspire to be… But that was the vaguest of feelings, and he denied its very existence. Such _feelings _were for fools. "I trust you are not skulking around again?"

Indignation flared across the other's face, Mahado's hand clenching suddenly in anger. "I do not _skulk, _your Highness."

His royal companion snorted. "You could certainly fool me."

"When have I _skulked?" _Mahado was clearly ruffled. "I have been in this palace but a _day, _your Highness; when have I had such a time here as to _skulk?"_

"You certainly seemed to be doing enough of it yesterday." Seto was holding his ground. "You were _spying _on the King."

"I was _exploring _the Palace. Is that a crime here?" The blonde snapped. "Can I not speak with my oldest friend?"

"He is a prince now." Stiff coldness.

"He is _Atemu, _and will not so perfectly fit into rigid rules enforced upon him. It is not in his nature."

"He will change or he will _suffer_ for it." Seto's tone reached artic temperatures. "The English will not suffer a misfit for a prince, and a reject for their Crown."

"If you say so much as one word against him-!" Mahado was furious.

His brunette companion cut him short, blunt and cold. "Tell me commoner, is he even _Christian?_"

Mahado faltered for a split second, but Seto caught it. "Of course he is!"

A snort. "Th'art an awful liar, Master Mahado. One would think you would be more capable at the skill, considering you defend a heathen prince." Seto turned away. "Your friend shall be thrown to the dogsshould his religious views be seen, but do not even _attempt_ to lie to the common rabble. Your testimony rings false even in the company of _one."_

"If you hurt him, if you speak a _word _of this, prince or no, I will hunt you down and _kill _you." Blazing fire met cold fury.

Seto glanced at his irate companion with utter disdain. "I could see thee on the block for a remark such as that, _Master _Mahado." His use of the practically meaningless title was scornful.

"And then you would see me walk straight back off it again, your _Highness," _the Egyptian gave back as good as he got, "by the power of a royal higher than you."

"As if the mobs would listen to a _pagan." _

"Ah, but the mobs do not sign the death warrants, do they?"

Seto scowled, turning to stomp away. Mahado did not allow him to get far though, following after.

"Cat got your tongue, your Highness?" The blonde's words were taunting.

Bitter, almost dead blue eyes twisted to gaze into Mahado's own mixed orbs. There was a long, disquieting pause.

"…Where the _mobs _are concerned, _Master _Mahadowho needs a warrant?"

* * *

'_Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud._

_Cloud and eclipses stain both moon and sun.' – Sonnet 35

* * *

_

Atemu really, _really _didn't want to be here. He'd asked his father for permission in the hopes His Majesty would withhold it, but – _no luck. _King Edward was quite content to let his two sons run off and happily play together in happy, happy land that was over the hills and so _very _Ra-damned far, far away.

Bakura _hated _him. Any fool could see it, should they choose to actually open their eyes and _look_. And the sneer the albino had given him when he'd handed over a bow to his half-brother had _not _been at all heartening in the slightest. Not that he was worried about actual archery…it wasn't that. Atemu knew for a fact he was a quite skilled archer. It was just…

_I haven't seen Mahado all __**day. **__Where __**is **__he?_ Atemu missed his friend dearly, and faced down by his hate-filled half-brother he was filled with a simple _longing _for his best friend's reassuring smile and strangely-lit eyes. Seto too, was noticeably absent, and there were very few servants around to curb whatever Bakura should decide to do, should Atemu dislike it.

The afternoon sun was golden and warm as it shone down into the palace courtyard the two princes stood in. It was nowhere near as hot as Egypt…but it was nice. Pleasant, even. The faint breeze in the air brought the scent of fruit from the apple tree in the courtyard's corner, and the wind stirred the royal children's hair with invisible, caressing fingers, tossing up silver and gold strands with equal love.

Bakura notched an arrow to his bow, raising the weapon and shooting down a low apple straight from the tree. His arrow broke the fruit into two exact halves which fell to the grass below. Smug amber eyes fixed on Atemu, their look challenging.

The Crown Prince arched an eyebrow then, without warning, let fly an arrow from his own bow, another following in quick succession.

The first arrow sliced completely through the stem joining the apple adjacent to the one Bakura had shot down to the tree. The second cut through the apple as it fell towards the ground, breaking the fruit into two exact halves before it touched grass.

Atemu smiled dryly at his half-brother. Bakura scowled.

Clapping distracted the two from their wordless argument. As one the two princes turned, and two more familiar young men stepped forward into their courtyard. Both were scowling.

Mahado looked annoyed, and frustrated, and confused, but it was he who had clapped. His hands fell back to his side at the stony glares sent his way. Atemu and Bakura's cousin, Seto, was at the blonde's side, and the blue-eyed youth didn't really look all that much in a better mood – though his ill-temper seemed more…_abstract, _distracted. Neither was looking at one another, yet they walked side by side.

…_What are those two doing together?_

"Bakura." Seto walked over to his white-haired cousin, moving easily away from Mahado and casually reaching over to take the bow from the death-grip the other held it in. "…Your father has arranged for us to have a lesson in dancing with our tutors this afternoon, in preparation for the Ball that will be held for the French when they arrive."

"That is a while away." Bakura unslung his quiver of arrows as well, dropping them disinterestedly on the ground. A servant that had followed on his elder cousin's heels swooped forwards to pick it up. "Why must we dance now?"

"Practice makes perfect."

Bakura snorted, but was cut off when Atemu ventured a question, his usually pleasant voice sounding strained. "…I assume this will be a lesson for me also?"

"…Oh." Seto paused for a second to study the other teen, nodding abruptly. "Yes. My apologies, your Highness, I forgot."

Mahado let out an indecipherable mutter under his breath.

* * *

…_The Crown Prince is everything that has been described to you, and more. His religion is uncertain, but rumours abound. Surely, being brought up in Egypt, he must have some tendencies towards Catholicism? It is such a devout place…and so near the Holy Land. If not, he is young enough to be taught, and I doubt the English will revolt much if he is in charge. He is such a charming boy, capable of wooing the public to his will. Already he is freely welcomed here, much loved by all…

* * *

_

"…No, it's one, two, three – and a step to the _left. _Left, I said! Your _Highness-"_

"…Now to the _right._ One two three _and _one two three-"

"…Your Highness, your dance partner won't _bite! _Would it hurt you so much to hold her _hand?"_

"…One two three _and _one two – _no! __**Left! **_Go _Left!"_

It did not take an intellectual genius to realise the 'dancing lessons' weren't going too well. Of the courtiers who had been ushered in by the lesson's two tutors it was very few who were actually paying any proper attention to them anymore, the constant stopping and starting of the music as the tutors fluttered and fussed over the royal students – and one _particular _royal student specifically – preventing any sort of good dance occurring. Three musicians had long since thrown down their instruments in disgust, the stringed ones letting out a peculiar _twang _in complaint. Mahado had to resist the urge to start banging his head off one of the wonderfully ornamented palace walls as yet _again _the dance was called to a halt, his female partner sighing loudly before flipping open her fan, making sure to bat her lashes coquettishly at a certain blue-eyed brunette who was looking her way at that instant. That prince merely rolled his eyes and looked away, and Mahado began to plead with every deity in the Heavens above to let him get out of this torture Atemu had inflicted upon him, and drag the suffering Crown Prince with him.

It would appear – at least if one were listening to the two tutors berating the crimson-eyes royal and bemoaning their fates – Atemu wasn't dancing very well. And it was _Atemu's _fault the lesson was falling to shambles so. Mahado couldn't hate his old friend because of the pity he felt towards the younger other at that moment in time – the Tudor Court was whispering behind their hands about him, and his half-brother was smirking, taking great delight in Atemu's every failure.

As the tutors finished ranting and withdrew, declaring the lesson _over _for that day and stalking from the room, the dull flush on Atemu's cheeks became obvious.

Bakura's smirk only grew, his amber eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "So you _can't _dance…" He breathed, voice tinged with triumph.

"I – I was never taught." Atemu resisted the urge to lower his eyes, though it was hard – _so _hard – with Bakura looking at him like that. He could hear the whispers, see the glances shot his way by gossiping courtiers, feel the blush rising on his cheeks as they all stared, as they all pointed, as they all laughed at their strange, foreign Crown prince. None of them had left the room following the tutors – why would they, lest commanded? _This _was where everything was happening.

Bakura was relishing his half-brother's discomfit. "So you know _nothing _of dancing? What a sorry welcoming Ball the arrival of the French will be if the Crown Prince cannot dance! A shocking, sorry, shameful event _indeed…"_

Atemu swallowed, at a loss for words. What could he say? It was true, he couldn't dance. It was also true that if he couldn't dance by the time the Ball came around to commemorate Seto's betrothal he'd make a fool of himself, his father, and his new home country. It was true then, what Bakura had said to him on his first day on English soil.

_He didn't belong here…_

Seto stepped forwards suddenly, interrupting the loaded silence. "Well…his Highness will just have to be _taught _how to dance." An easy smile was shot at the gathered courtiers, expression fading slightly as it looked upon his cousins. "There won't be a Frenchman who won't return to his shores singing praises of England's royalty."

Bakura frowned, disliking his fun cut short so soon. "Only if his Highness Prince Atemu is taught – and he _learns – _in time." Amber eyes narrowed on the Crown Prince. "Nobody is that quick a learner."

The half-Egyptian bristled. "Oh, I'm quite sure I could learn."

His brother's frown changed to a small, challenging smile. "Perhaps, half-brother, perhaps not. But surely for you to learn you require a teacher…?"

Sapphire eyes crinkled slightly in annoyance. Bakura was beginning to irk Seto with his constant pettiness. And did the albino _have _to be so cruel? _Publicly? _A sudden urge seized the brunette, and he spoke up. "I'll teach him."

"_What?!" _Both Bakura _and _Atemu turned to stare at the eldest prince in stunned surprise. Mahado frowned, disliking the idea almost immediately.

"I _said, _I'll teach him." Seto raised his chin defiantly. "That is…if his Highness, the Crown Prince, doesn't mind…"

"No." Atemu's voice was faint with shock, ruby eyes wide with disbelief. "No, I don't mind…" He raised a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"There you are then." His cousin's eyes warmed slightly, but the expression faltered under Bakura's gaze. To put it bluntly, the albino looked _livid, _and all his venomous rage seemed to be centred on Seto.

The brunette tried another smile, but this one was even worse than the last.

_Oh damn._

Bakura turned to snap at the wide-eyed courtiers that surrounded the three royals and Mahado. "_Out!" _His tone left no room for argument. One lady _eeped, _hurriedly lifting her skirts and walking as quickly out of the room as possible – _running _was well out of the question with the dress she wore that day -, her friends and others like her hastily following her example. (The male courtiers, wearing slightly less-burdensome styles, only _just _remembered to hold the door open for their female counterparts as they made a break for it. One man, quite forgetting entirely, accidentally slammed the door on his partner's skirts, tearing a wonderful rip in the expensive fabric – which he then proceeded to make _worse _by pulling them out of the doorjamb in a desperate attempt to redeem himself. The situation was humiliating, the dress was ruined, and the poor young man found himself with his right ear red from his lady's wrath and scorn. That, and no-one would let him live it down.)

Bakura bore the idiocies with an uncharacteristic patience, Seto noted – and then only just restrained himself from yelping, as a smug voice happily commented in his ear:

"Your little cousin has such wonderful people skills, your Highness. Did he learn them from you?"

Seto glared at Mahado from the corner of his eye (the blonde youth stood behind him), well aware of Bakura barely a few feet away from them, the albino glowering the last of the unfortunate courtiers from the room.

"Have you yet not learned to mind your _tongue?" _He hissed.

"I see no need to mind it now…"

Seto gave up on discretion, turning fully around to meet the other's mixed gaze. "Are you _quite _mad, or is this insanity of yours just a temporary affliction?"

Mahado smiled and placed a hand over his heart, doe-innocent and fooling no-one. "Perhaps my humours are ill-mixed today, your Highness; what can I say?"

The Egyptian was baiting him, Seto knew. Everything – _everything – _the blonde did was intended to annoy, to irritate, to _infuriate _him. So…he smiled sweetly.

"…Perhaps then we should have you torn open, Master Mahado, so we can see _exactly _what is going on inside of you?"

"That would be most _terribly _inconvenient." Mahado deadpanned. "How then would I accompany his royal Highness the prince Atemu about the palace?"

Seto's smile was sickly-sweet and completely false. "'Twould not be so hard for you to accompany His Highness – I am quite sure whatever pieces left of thee after the inquisition could quite _easily_ be transported around in a bag."

Mahado glared. Seto glared back. Behind the two of them the door of the room swung shut, and Bakura moved across to talk to a more-than-hesitant Atemu. Neither the blonde nor the brunette noticed.

Later…no-one would remember exactly what was said in those few, brief minutes. Mahado and Seto were both aware, certainly, of their argument, as undoubtedly Bakura and Atemu would have been of their own (– for what other reason would the latter two talk, of course, but to argue? There were still many grievances between them, and the list was rapidly building as time passed). Mahado and Seto, upon querying their respective 'charges' later, would meet only with stubborn silences and monosyllabic answers – eventually, they would have to give up. What the exact words were of the latest spat between the closest heirs to the English throne would forever remain a mystery; the two half-brothers' judgement for once seeming to be as one – if Seto and Mahado had not heard the argument in the first place, what they had not heard would not be told to them. Why earn an extra scolding off of their friends, as well as the indignity of the events that have followed straight after said argument? Because it was apparent, really, neither the Egyptian courtier nor the brunette prince cottoned on to the fact the two sons of King Edward were arguing – that is, of course, until there was a sudden movement at the corner of Seto's eye.

The flash of action was followed by a loud crack, and a yelp. Stunned amber eyes found themselves staring into furious cerise, feeling the sharp sting of a hand's imprint on their owner's cheek.

The Crown Prince pulled his hand away from the other's face, his voice dangerously low as he spoke to his half-brother. "Don't you ever – _ever – _speak like that about my mother in front of me again."

Bakura tried to regain his wits. Had Atemu just…? Had he just been...?

Seto winced, the situation obvious. Atemu and Bakura had been arguing. The albino had gone one insult too far, and his half-brother had slapped him.

No-one had _ever _slapped Bakura before. Not his mother, not his father, not Seto, and most _certainly _not any of the court. _Nobody _hit an English Prince – except the _Crown _Prince it seemed, or at least, the Crown Prince while his half-brother was in shock.

The facts fitted into Bakura's mind, slotting neatly into place. _Atemu had just slapped him._

Mahado was blinking, Seto was staring, and Atemu had just hit him.

Bakura shoved the Crown Prince, suddenly vengeful. "How _dare _you?!"

Ruby eyes flashed, Atemu shoving the albino just as hard in return. "How do _I _dare?! You insulted _my _mother!"

"You call that _thing _a mother?!" The younger prince's voice was scornful. "A _slut _maybe, but a -" His words were cut off by a flash of multicoloured movement, a yell as Atemu descended upon his half-brother, livid. Bakura staggered, and both princes fell to the ground in a flurry of flying capes, arms and various limbs.

Seto ran forward, trying to split the two up. He was surprised to see Mahado helping him, the foreign courtier dragging Atemu away from the fray. The brunette prince, in turn, caught hold of Bakura - who was now sporting a wonderful bruise over his eye, already beginning to purple.

"Let _go _of me!" Atemu struggled in his friend's grip.

Bakura squirmed, trying to escape his cousin's grasp. "Seto, keep out of this!"

"_No."_

A few more minutes of struggling, kicking and writhing and the two sons of King Edward gave up, their efforts in vain.

Mahado felt the Crown Prince sag against him, suddenly defeated. The courtier nodded to himself. "If I let you go, will you promise not to continue this mess?"

There was a slight pause, then Atemu nodded. "I give you my word." Mahado released him, and the English Heir stood, flicking his cape back into position over his shoulders, crimson eyes fixed in contempt on Bakura.

"And you?" Seto asked the albino. "Will you also give your word to cease this dispute?"

"…I will." Bakura, too, was released. He stood, smoothing his rumpled clothes with a pale hand, expression stormy.

"…I suppose it would be too much for you to apologise to him?" The brunette's voice was low enough so that only his white-haired cousin caught it, but Mahado and Atemu both saw how Bakura's head at once snapped to look at Seto, usually bright eyes dark and glaring.

"_I will __**not **__apologise." _The prince's words were a hiss.

"Bakura, you cannot go on this way-"

"I said _no!" _Anger once more coloured the youngest royal's voice, mingling there with bitterness, jealousy and hurt. How could Seto reprimand him? They had been friends since childhood, close, inseparable. But now…

_Atemu. _

Suddenly incapable of speech Bakura fled the room, shoving past both his cousin and his half-brother, the sound of his feet and the slam of the door echoing oddly off of Westminster's walls.

* * *

Bakura did not show up for the evening feast.

The meal was in the Great Hall again, the whole Court assembled to eat, drink, and gossip. Once more Atemu had to bear the room rising at his entrance, but this time he was accompanied in by both Mahado _and _Seto. The brunette had silently appeared at the doorway to the Hall just as the younger prince had arrived there, and they had entered together. The three of them even took seats together, the King motioning them over to sit at the royal table – though His Majesty didn't speak to them, obviously otherwise detained in a conversation with his half-sister, who sat beside him.

Partway through the meal, after checking to his right to see Mahado was well enough distracted by others surrounding them, Atemu turned to Seto. The brunette seemed to have recovered from his earlier awkwardness of that afternoon – the period shortly following the time Bakura had left them -, and was once again had the facial expression of a cheerfully neutral _rock. _Atemu had some questions…but some areas were not quite safe enough to tread on –_yet – _with his cousin. So…to the traditional safety zone it was.

"Her Highness the Princess Elizabeth is an interesting lady, wouldn't you agree?" Atemu made sure to keep his tone friendly and light. "And so highly intelligent! I feel quite shamed."

"Our aunt has that effect on a lot of people." Seto was still dreadfully distant. "It was worse when she was younger, I have been led to believe. Age, apparently, gives one a good enough for one's wisdom. But…to be _female_, and possess both youth and intelligence? Our aunt was both loved and loathed for her uncanny wits."

His cousin tried again. "She cannot be here only because of me."

"She isn't." Seto lazily leaned forwards on one elbow, suddenly involved in the conversation, effectively blocking their conversation from the watchful eyes of most of the rest of the Court. "Her royal Highness came also to advise His Majesty on the matter of a traitor."

"…A traitor?" Atemu blinked, curiosity in every syllable of his words. "Of what ilk?"

"…High Treason, I believe her charge is." The brunette's smile was mirthless; bitter. "It is amazing what one can be found guilty of even when locked in the Tower for so many years."

"The Tower?"

"The Tower of London." Seto inspected a pear thoughtfully, tossing it in the air and catching it with an easy grace. Tiring quickly of his game of catch he took a bite. "It's a royal residence, but makes a good prison for political…_'guests'." _The fruit disappeared promptly.

"H-How can you just…?" Atemu was lost for words.

Almost pitying blue eyes rested on him for a moment. "…Because that is what is done. People come, people go. The Court's size ebbs and flows, and the King's favour fluctuates day by day. Be thankful, cousin, that it is not our Grandfather's Court we reside in. His late Majesty was so much more volatile than your father."

"I heard of that. King Henry-"

"Wanted a son." Seto cut him off. "Something which _your _father has no lack of, so there is no chance of such madness that occurred in his father's reign happening once more."

His half-Egyptian companion bit his lip. "Some say there is a reason in _all _things, even madness. Surely, to want a male child in such a patriarchal society such as this cannot be so wrong?"

"Oh…it's not _wrong." _Seto sighed, taking a sip from his goblet. "What was wrong was the madness that drove our grandfather – the search for a male heir became his sole reason for existence. Such obsession…he drove himself to ill-health, and this country into chaos. England was rocked to its foundations, the religion shaken up and mixed, the people wandering about dazed and confused. There were protests, rebellions…" The eldest prince paused, looking at his cousin silently for a few moments. "…The English people dislike _change, _Atemu. They like things to be settled, peaceful – but will rile up at the slightest provocation, the merest hint all is not well with those that rule them, those that govern them, those that give them law. They are the mob that must be satisfied – for what use is a building's roof if its foundations are crumbling?"

"But…the King is the head of all England; what he says, _goes."_

Seto smiled his absent smile once more. "Ah, _yes. _The King is the head, cousin – but you mustn't forget one vital thing about that."

"And what would that be?" Atemu had long since abandoned eating, ignoring all around him in favour of listening solely to his cousin beside him. Seto finished his drink in a few quick swallows.

"Heads can be cut off."

* * *

**Atemu's conversation was the Ambassador (translation): **

"Your Highness... the crown jewels themselves can hold no candle to your beauty."

"A most gracious compliment, sir, though you flatter me muchly."

"You speak my language, your Highness?"

"Fluently."

"It was an honour to meet you, Prince of the Rose."

"Likewise."

**On the traitor in the Tower: **An actual detainee in the Tower of London, I'm drawing this person directly from the history books. If anyone can hazard a guess as to who they are I'll be extraordinarily impressed – though, do bear in mind, I've put their execution date a year that it occurred in actuality.

**On Westminster Palace: **Nowadays: 'The Palace of Westminster includes approximately 1,100 rooms, 100 staircases, and 3 miles (5 km) of passageways. The building includes four floors; the ground floor includes offices, dining rooms, and bars. The 'first floor' (known as the principal floor) houses the main rooms of the Palace, including the Chambers, the lobbies, and the libraries. The Robing Room, the Royal Gallery, the Prince's Chamber, the Lords' Chamber, the Peers' Lobby, the Central Lobby, the Members' Lobby, and the Commons' Chamber all lie in a straight line on this floor, from south to north, in the order noted. (Westminster Hall lies to a side at the Commons end of the Palace.) The top two floors are used for committee rooms and offices.' (Information taken from Wikipedia.)

**On titles: **Obviously 'King' is the highest title, followed by 'Crown Prince', 'Prince', 'Duke', 'Marquess', 'Earl', 'Viscount', 'Baron', 'Baronet' and 'Knight'. Past that we reach the 'untitled' classes, with 'Esquire'. 'Master' is a practically meaningless title in terms of the hierarchy of power, applicable to any male commoner. And these titles only cover royalty and nobility – in Western Europe. There's also the religious titles (I am _not _getting into that), as well as military.

**On 'thee', 'thy' and 'thine': **Very, very polite, courtly (ye olde –grins-) English. You'll only ever hear certain people speak into it (namely the polite, educated ones (or the ones trying vainly to grovel and cover their ass before royalty)), and then only sometimes. Seto uses it most commonly (insofar) because he was brought up to be so polite – not to his family, because he would most likely have been told to stop being so formal; not to Ambassadors, because he doesn't respect them enough. He lapses into with Mahado only because he's borderline blowing his temper, and he gets more and more clipped with the blonde as his wonderful temperament gradually goes downhill.

**On language in general: **Hell, I'm writing this _very _plainly, for Tudor England. I could go all courtly on you – but that's a pain. Fun, in small quantities, but a _pain _in anything larger than that.

**On Seto: **A note that really doesn't mean anything, but I really want to smack him this chapter. _Hard. _He's friggin' bipolar, and it bugs me. And it confuses Atemu, who I want to pick up and hug. So sue me, I empathise with his total predicament. …Ah…and _do _bear I mind Seto in this fic isn't _Kaiba. _He's lived a totally different life to the tall, dark and stubborn CEO we're all used to seeing, and has a (slightly?) different personality as a result. And _pff. _As if Bakura's just gonna kiss n' make up with Atemu. Are you kidding me?

**Shadow: **And that's the end of the quite lengthy notes for this chapter. …And I only just realised how many _meals _this chapter has too. Lord…soon you'll start thinking all Tudor England did was _eat. _(grins)

I have no idea when the next update for this'll be out, though the plot for the next chapter has been wholly sorted out. Truly, this update has been an absolute _pain _from the very beginning to write. (mutters)


End file.
